


Your Reason To Be

by KellanCougar



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU where Zayn didnt leave, Angst, Anxiety, Canon, First Kisses, First Time, HEA, M/M, Separation, Stress, The X Factor Era, Then and Now, Yearning, a little side Ziam, and beyond, explicit - Freeform, life threatening situation, stunting, up to present day (almost)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 11:09:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 49,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8141680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KellanCougar/pseuds/KellanCougar
Summary: The X Factor was only the start. With their management willing to do anything for headlines, including manipulation that could threaten Harry's very life, Louis fears he will lose everything he loves and be powerless to stop it.





	

 

 

“It’s the ultimate headline, boys!”

Their management's tone suggested they were doing them the biggest favour known to man. From experience, Harry knew better. His toes clenched inside his boots, his heart sinking into a dark abyss of lies and loneliness.

“We’re going to tell the fans that the two of you had a brief relationship when the first album was released, but it was only puppy love before you both grew out of it and moved on. This will dispel the Larry Stylinson rumours for good whilst giving fans the illusion that they were right all along. It will make them feel vindicated, reward them for staying with the band. We’re doing a good thing here.”

Another lie to hide another lie. Harry felt like he was drowning, unable to find his way to the surface, blinded by light all around him designed to confuse and disorient.

This was not what he’d signed up for at all. If it hadn’t been for Louis…

~xXx~

Aged just sixteen and eighteen, they’d connected immediately, blushing and grinning, something unspoken and not quite understood hanging in the air. Back then, Harry didn’t know for sure if he properly _liked_ boys, didn’t know if the unexpected pull he felt meant more than friends. He’d dated a girl before, gotten his first kiss and grope in the woods behind his house. It had been fine, more than fine, to be pressed up against her, their mutual awkwardness and innocence exciting. Before her though he’d dated a boy, if you could call hanging out and cuddling really dating. Harry wasn’t sure. They’d been young at the time, only twelve, and kissing hadn’t been high on the agenda, but Harry had loved him and they’d been a ‘couple’ for several months growing up. His mum had thought it very sweet.

This though, this was new, this _yearning._ In a split second, Harry had gone from nervous talent show contestant to dopey, blushing idiot, standing with his mouth ajar when the beautiful boy spoke to him in the toilet of all places. Really - it was no surprise he had misaimed and wet all over the stranger’s feet. He really thought the boy would be mad, but he didn’t seem to mind and, just like that, Harry was smitten.

Louis, as it turned out, was just as enamoured. The young lad, all gangly limbs and curls had tugged at something within him and didn’t let go. When their eyes met he’d felt something that he’d tried so hard to find with his girlfriend, but couldn’t seem to. He’d been barely dating her as it was, trying to find a way to end it without hurting her. It was unfortunate that she had become so attached to him when he had only asked her out in the first place to be like the other lads, all panting after her like dogs in heat. Louis’ plan to just fit in had backfired in magnificent fashion when he had found himself with a girlfriend. The lads were put out that she hadn’t chosen them, not knowing that Louis was freaking out in his head about the whole scenario. This wasn’t how it was meant to go. It was meant to be a good thing, according to the lads, but Louis wasn’t so sure about that.

Before entering X Factor, the lads back home had taken to ribbing him about how far the two of them had gone, and if she was ‘up for it’. Louis had been vague about the details, not wanting to admit that he couldn’t find it within himself to be interested in her in that way. The problem was that he was having to manufacture excuses to avoid furthering things between them, but without making her in any was suspicious about his motives, when he was still figuring those out himself. He didn’t know when life had gotten so complicated.

Standing backstage watching Harry perform at the first auditions, Louis had felt a wave of something inexplicable. The young lad was so endearing, despite their entire conversational history having consisted of mumbled hellos and frantic, embarrassed apologies.

Louis had watched him sing beautifully, then tear up when he faced possible rejection from one harsh judge on the panel. Louis had had the overwhelming urge to march out there and hold onto him, protect him from the four indifferent people behind the desk who thought they understood how badly people like Harry and Louis wanted this. Harry was too young, they had reckoned, he’d have been better waiting a year or two. He’d watched Harry’s lip wobble, struggling to hold himself together under the bright lights on that big, empty stage, until three of the four agreed he could move on to the next stage of the competition.

Louis had been thrilled for him, but all too soon it’d been his own turn and, being distracted, he’d not performed at his best. Thinking his chances were over before they had begun, he’d felt a failure, worried that he’d let his mum and his sisters down.

Most of all, he’d fretted that he might not see that beautiful curly-haired boy again if he crashed out at the first hurdle.

His luck had held. Boot camp rolled around a few weeks’ later, and unbeknown to each other, Louis and Harry were both desperate to see each other again. When they weren’t selected for judges’ houses, they were both devastated.

The misery of rejection stung. Standing in that line-up waiting to hear the one name that never came was a bitter blow. The contestants had dispersed, sitting outside with their bags wondering what more they could have done to impress the judges. One lad, Liam Payne, had taken himself off on his own, heartbroken at failing for a second time. This time he hadn’t even made it to judges’ houses and he couldn’t bear having to tell his parents that he hadn’t made it. Staring at the dirty concrete between his feet, he’d struggled to make sense of it all.

Another one of the rejected boys, Zayn Malik, had hovered nearby, red-eyed and down. He hadn’t known the tall boy, only his reputation as a singer, but had so wanted to go to him, lacking the courage to do so.

Niall Horan, the life and soul of the party, had been uncharacteristically quiet after days of laughing and singing backstage. Now he was subdued, reflecting on what might have been.

Harry had taken off on his own, sitting on his case, scrubbing tears from his eyes, disappointment knifing his heart. He’d known his mum would be fine with it – she’d be so proud of him for having gotten that far and for following a dream – but he had failed, and that was a bitter pill.

When a show assistant had called out their names one by one they’d been startled, all five of them looking at each other, bewildered. They were naturally suspicious, none of them understanding why their presence was required any longer. They’d stood, nervous and huddled close together on the stage, looking at Simon Cowell, all well aware of their red eyes and puffy faces, all ashamed that they had been crying.

“Boys – we’ve decided to do something with all of you. We’re going to put you in a group and take you to judges’ houses.”

There’d been a moment of stunned silence, before they’d all begun jumping around on stage. Louis had looked up and spotted Harry’s pretty face smiling at him and, with absolutely no thought whatsoever, had run and leapt into the young boy’s arms. To his delight, Harry had caught him easily, spinning them around. From that moment on, there’d been no going back. They had found each other again and, no matter what, each had somehow known that everything would work out.

~xXx~

Of course, being thrust into a band with a group of strangers was a new experience for everyone. Louis was loud and brash, clashing with Liam straight away. They rubbed each other up the wrong way and the other boys were nervous about how this was going to work if they couldn’t agree. Harry made a decision and disappeared off to call his dad. When he returned, he made his pitch to the others.

“Uhmm... my dad has a bungalow on his land that we can all use for a long weekend. We could, like, light a campfire and sit around it, get to know each other. What do you think?”

He looked straight to Louis who agreed on the spot.

“Excellent idea! Let’s go bond, just the boys! We need to have a practice too, see how our voices fit together!”

Zayn nodded, biting his lip and hoping that Liam would agree. Niall was all for it, high-fiving Harry for the suggestion. Liam was the last to answer, but realised that the idea was a good one. And he had nothing whatsoever against Harry who seemed like a really sweet lad. Excellent voice. Harry beamed, thrilled that, although he was the youngest, he had contributed something to the band.

They left for home after swapping numbers, riding high on the thrill of success.

The day dawned when the five of them were to make their way to Cheshire, to Harry’s dad’s place. No one was old enough to drive except Louis, but he caught the train the same as the others, more excited that he would ever let on that he was going to be spending time with Harry.

They all rocked up to the house with backpacks, Harry already there. There were two bedrooms plus a lounge and the law of bagsies was quickly applied to the situation. Harry already had a room as he had arranged the accommodation, and Louis declared squatters’ rights to sleep on the floor in the same room.

Liam grabbed the second bedroom as, with his height, he needed a bed. That was his argument. Zayn quietly offered to share with him, and Niall happily took the pull-out couch. They didn’t plan on a great deal of sleep – the order of the day was getting to know each other, singing some favourite tunes and generally being teenagers on holiday without their parents. It was soon obvious that Louis was a prankster, loving nothing more than to wind up the others and run away laughing at his success. Niall was always laughing and found Louis funny beyond words. Liam was quiet, but respected, and liked to try and keep some order of control. Zayn was quiet until you drew him out, and then his humour really shone through. And then there was Harry, sweet, innocent-looking Harry, who turned into Louis’ accomplice in every stunt he dreamed up.

In true teenage boy style, there were food fights, play fights, arguments and truths over that weekend. They found out what music each liked, how their voices worked with different genres of music, and sat outdoors until the early hours around a campfire, singing their favourite songs and playing with the harmonies. By the end of that weekend they had forged a bond that would hold them together no matter what life threw at them.

When it was time to go home, Anne came to collect Harry and met them all for the first time. Each and every boy won her over with their manners and sweet charm, and she hoped against hope that their luck and talent would carry them through. Before dropping them off at the train station, she offered to take them back home for something to eat. They eagerly accepted after a weekend of junk food, and Anne took the chance to check out her son’s new best friend. Harry had talked about Louis non-stop when he came home from both auditions and boot camp. She guessed he had made a lifelong friend by the way he enthused about him, but, sitting in her kitchen, she watched while Harry sat bewitched by Louis, his voice, even the way his mouth moved. She also couldn’t miss the way Louis’ eyes glowed when he flicked his gaze back to Harry, nor the way her son blushed, clearly swept up in a massive crush on an older boy.

In the back of her mind she wondered if maybe there was something there, but dismissed it. After all, her son was only sixteen, still so young and still at the awkward stage around other people he didn’t know. It was lovely he had made new friends, friends who would support each other no matter what. They would all need each other moving forward in the competition.

Judges’ Houses was more than they could have ever imagined. The beach house was stunning and _huge_. They shared rooms again, Louis with Harry, no discussion required, and they practiced every waking moment once everyone was up and fed in the morning. In the afternoons they would go for a swim in the pool although they sneaked off to the beach when they could, laughing and messing about in the warm, sparkling water. Louis proved to be an underwater ninja – catching the boys unawares and pulling down their swim shorts. Harry and Louis were piggybacking up and down in the shallow water, falling over often and splashing each other until they were a helpless, giggling mess.

Niall loved beach games and roped in Liam to play footie and volleyball. With uneven numbers, Zayn liked to stay back, watching the others. When they insisted, he would be press-ganged to join in, Louis refusing to let him sit out. He had taken a real shine to Louis, the pair of them liked to plot and scheme, making the others nervous and skittish, chasing each other until they fell over laughing. Despite wanting to get closer, Zayn contented himself with looking at Liam, at his mop of wavy hair and his long legs, wishing he had the nerve to get as close to him as he was to Louis. It was crazy, but he felt tongue-tied around Liam, a little awestruck by his talent.

Liam was a little quiet around Zayn too, something that only Zayn himself noticed. Liam found that everything felt calmer around him, less frantic, and it was a welcome feeling, but also a confusing one. Zayn was quite beautiful with his dark-lashed eyes and plush lips, but Liam couldn’t get that to sit right in his head. Girls were beautiful. Zayn wasn’t a girl. It was all very strange. He watched Harry and Louis, their easy friendship and shared intimacy, and a part of him envied it. He wanted to throw his arm around Zayn like Louis did with Harry, hold him close without feeling it was an act or that it implied something. Even if a part of him argued that maybe it did.

On the day they had to perform for Simon and the cameras, they had a massive case of nerves, with the result that it wasn’t their best performance and they knew it. They slunk away afterwards, Louis limping after a spectacularly bad volleyball tackle the day before, and went to lick their wounds. They knew they had performed better and all they could do was wait for the verdict.

It was the longest night of their lives. After tossing and turning for what felt like hours but was in fact about an hour and 20 minutes, Louis whispered to Harry.

“Harry? Hazza? Are you awake?”

He heard the bed across the room squeak.

“Yeah. Too nervous to sleep.”

Louis grinned in the dark.

“It’s so warm - let’s go skinny dipping.”

Harry’s cautious voice floated over to him.

“What if we get caught? We’ll get sent home and ruin it for everyone.”

“So says the boy who told me he loves to get naked at home as he finds it ‘freeing’.” Harry swore he could hear the air quotes. “Come along, young Harold – have faith in the Tommo. Grab a towel.”

Trying not to giggle, they crept out of bed, pulling on shorts and sneaking to the bathroom to pilfer a towel before creeping out of the sleeping house. Once outside, they looked around in the artificially lit courtyard.

“Pool or sea?” Harry bit his lip.

“Oh, I think sea. Come on – this’ll be fun.”

Taking hold of his hand, he led the way down the wooden steps to the deck, hoping and praying that they didn’t squeak and give them both away. When their feet hit sand they broke into a run down the beach, away from the house. They stopped, giggling and out of breath at the water’s edge, before yanking off their shorts and running naked into the still warm sea. Harry had to admit that, despite his love of being naked, he had never been skinny dipping in the sea before and it felt amazing, all soft where usually there was clothing.

Laying on their backs, sculling in the shallows, they looked up at the stars, everything so bright and beautiful.

“Do you think we’ll make it, Lou?”

Louis thought about it. “I think we have a shot. Statistically, we have a 1 in 2 chance. The odds are about as good as we can hope for.”

“I really want this.” Harry’s words hung in the air between them. Louis let his feet hit the sand and turned to him.

“Hazza, if it doesn’t work out then you apply again next year like Liam did. You’re sixteen! You can so easily come back again. Here’s hoping we get through, but if not I want to see you back there on that stage next year, knocking their socks off again.”

“What about you?” Harry felt Louis’ self-doubt every day, the deep-seated feeling that he shouldn’t be there, like it was a mistake or a fluke that he’d made it.

He heard a sigh.

“Lucky break for me. I don’t think for a minute I’d get this chance again. It’s why I’m staying positive about tomorrow. We have to believe in ourselves or Simon won’t.”

Harry frowned, making his way over to Louis, the ripples in the water lit by moonlight.

“I believe in us. I also believe in you, Louis Tomlinson. Your voice is unique and beautiful, and crucial to our sound as a band. So don’t you ever say you got lucky. You are meant to be here, the same as we all are.”

“Thanks, Haz.” The softness in his voice made Harry’s toes curl into the sandy seabed. He knew that the feelings he harboured for Louis wouldn’t lead to anything, but he couldn’t switch them off. He reached out and pulled him into a brief hug, their naked bodies pressed together in the darkness. 

_A crush on an older boy – it’s such a cliché._

All Louis could think was that he wanted to drown in those dimples.

Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, Louis’ head whipped round.

“Who’s that? Shit.” He walked to shore, ready to grab the towels and make a futile run for it, when he heard a soft call with an Irish lilt.

“Lads? Didn’t know you came out too.”

 _“Niall?”_ They spoke in unison.

“Yeah – fancied a swim so I snuck out.” He spotted their towels and shorts and grinned. “Skinny dipping? Bloody brilliant idea!”

They watched him drop his shorts in the almost light and run into the sea, launching into a vigorous front crawl until he cleared the waves. They swam out to him, Louis catching Harry’s eye before they dunked Niall under, laughing when he came up for air, spluttering expletives before sending armfuls of water over the pair of them.

Half an hour later and they were getting cold, deciding to head to the shore to fetch their shorts and towels before sneaking back to the house. Everything was quiet and when they parted company with Niall to go to their room, he grinned.

“Skinny dipping – I can tick that one off my bucket list!” With a huge wink, he disappeared off to his room, Harry and Louis going into theirs and closing the door before drying off and clambering back into their beds.

Thinking they’d gotten away with it, it wasn’t until they were celebrating getting through to the live shows that Simon pulled them aside.

“When I said get some sleep, I didn’t mean go to the beach in the middle of the night.”

Louis took it for the team.

“Couldn’t sleep – too nervous. A bit of exercise and I dropped off straight away.” How he kept a straight face he’d never know, but if all he had to deal with by way of retribution was Simon’s raised eyebrow, then life couldn’t be too bad.

~xXx~

Living together in the contestants’ house, they became inseparable, always laughing and messing around, creating mayhem, and yet when Harry flashed his big green eyes he could be forgiven anything – the personification of innocence and charm. It was Louis who took the fall every time, cackling loudly at whoever they had pranked and dragging a giggling Harry with him when he fled the scene. There were days when the house reverberated with yells of “Bloody hell, Tommo, you can bloody well clean that up!” “Tommo! If I have to take a shit with no paper I’m using your favourite shirt! Sort it out!” “Tommo! Stop chucking fucking bananas at me and piss off back to your room!” “TOMMO! I WAS EATING THAT, YOU TOSSER!”

Every time, Harry was there, always a part of it, the quiet sidekick who got away with it all. Louis blamed the curls and dimples, reckoning he could escape a firing squad with the right smile and hair toss.

When the band were together, sitting and practicing or trying to feel out a performance song before rehearsal, Louis and Harry would be cuddled up together, the brother each had never had growing up, deep in discussion, occasionally just looking at each other for long moments, distracted, until someone broke the moment and they were back in the room, both a little dazed.

They played like children, fighting with no intent other than fun and laughter. Louis found himself wanting to make Harry smile a hundred times a day and set himself the task of ensuring it happened. They didn’t admit it to themselves, but they were inseparable, lonely and sad when the other wasn’t there. They went to the shops together, met fans at the supermarket and posed for giggly photos while wrapped around each other, playing to the cameras. The other lads were a right laugh too and played along with the hi-jinks. The day they all decided to wear onesies out caused a mini fan stampede of which they were inordinately proud.

Harry found himself unable to concentrate when Louis wasn’t next to him, needing him to feel grounded. During interviews he spent his time trying to catch Louis’ eye so that they could share secret smiles to make everything feel okay again. When they were close together, Harry found himself gazing at Louis while he talked, loving his voice, the way his lips formed the words. Louis was hypnotic, and Harry would be almost swaying like a snake before the charmer until someone clicked their fingers and he was back in the room again.

The others in the house were a fun bunch, and Louis was friendly with Aiden in particular. He didn’t admit to himself at first but he was testing the waters, hanging out with another boy to see how it felt. Aiden liked Louis, not that they crossed that line, but Louis wanted to know if was boys in general, or just Harry that had turned his head. The experiment left him more confused; Aiden liked him and was open to more, yet he found himself pulling away when the play flirting got too intense and bordered on advancing further. He stupidly believed that Harry understood it was all in fun, the outrageous flirting that he and Aiden shared, but it was Liam who mentioned to him on the quiet.

“Tommo, mate. Ease off a bit. Harry’s not taking it well. Pick a best mate and let them know, yeah? Harry looks really hurt that you’ve moved on to Aiden.”

Louis felt sick. That was his answer right there. Aiden was a good lad, but he wasn’t Harry. That night he slipped outside and found Harry on his own in the grounds, security guards keeping a close eye.

“Haz? Harry! Wait up.”

He jogged over the well-tended lawn, down to where Harry sat watching the ripples in the swimming pool. He looked up at Louis’ call, his pretty face both happy and sad, a juxtaposition that looked unbearably pained. Reaching Harry, he sat down on the grass beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“Are you okay? Liam said you were upset. I never meant to do that. Never did.”

Harry wanted to be strong, to walk away with dignity if he was being cast aside for Aiden, but he couldn’t find the strength, not with Louis’ arm around him. His head fell against Louis’ shoulder, and hating himself for it, he waited for the hammer to fall.

“Don’t worry, Lou. I know we’re not exclusive friends or anything. You can be mates with whoever you want. I’m okay with it.”

Louis heard the lie and felt like shit. Harry was pale, his eyes downcast.

“You’re my mate, Haz. My best mate, if that’s alright with you. Life’s just better with you by my side.”

Harry looked up then, his smile blossoming, his eyes still guarded, sceptical. “You really mean that?”

Louis nudged him with his shoulder, pulling him closer and resting his chin on his head. “Course I do. You and me – besties for life.”

As he spoke the words he felt his heart clench at the lie. Smelling Harry’s hair, he knew he wanted so much more.

~xXx~

After that, Harry sat between Louis’ knees whenever they watched a movie, leaning against his thigh. He nudged like an affectionate cat when Louis’ hand rested on his head, encouraging the movement of fingertips in his hair. The others noticed, commented once or twice, but Harry said he preferred the floor so he could stretch out. He also stole the bowl of popcorn and held it where only he and Louis could reach it – that way Louis could also feed him popcorn. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. Being physically close to Harry, Louis felt the electric charge between them, the pull toward each other. They hadn’t talked about it - it was a lot to process – but ever since that incident in the X Factor bathroom and Harry’s red face and wide eyed gaze, Louis had been lost. One look into those embarrassed green eyes and Louis had felt his future change. In that moment he knew that somehow Harry Styles was meant to be a part of his life. He felt the heat in their depths, even as Harry bumbled and apologised in that ridiculous deep voice, so out of place on a boy so young. He had registered that Harry was younger than he, _how_ young he hadn’t known back then, but the spark between them was irrefutable.

The nights were different though. The nights were theirs, time to lie in bed, to whisper and plan, but also to fall in love, neither of them aware at first, just feeling the start of something, the ache of something deep inside; emotional growing pains.

Harry hated storms, and the night that forced Louis’ hand was the night he heard Harry crying in his own bed. The storm was just gaining momentum, the roof shaking with the noise, their room alight with jagged lightning. Every time it flashed he saw Harry tighten into a smaller and smaller ball in his bed, his head buried deep into his pillow, shaking with fear. He didn’t question his own motives, or how Harry would react. He just acted, slipping out of his own bed and into Harry’s, drawing the whimpering lad into his arms and holding him close, stroking his curls on autopilot, his hands just needing to be there.

Harry stilled and uncurled a fraction, turning his tearstained face to Louis and giving him a heartrending smile of gratitude before snuggling even closer into those comforting, welcoming arms and drifting off to sleep. Neither spoke a word, but what passed between them was understanding and the unspoken promise by Louis to protect Harry no matter what. Only when Harry was asleep did he smell his hair, burying his face in his soft curls and wordlessly accepting that his future lay with this boy in his arms.

In the morning, when the boys burst in to find them asleep in the same single bed, eyebrows were raised until they spotted Harry’s puffy eyes, dried tear tracks marking his cheeks. Louis woke and saw them gawking. His words were a low murmur.

“Harry’s afraid of storms.”

He left it at that and the others shrugged it off and left the room to forage for breakfast, Louis hearing Rebecca smack Niall’s hand away from her pancakes, telling him to make his own. Harry snuffled, stretching out before opening his eyes in shock at the feel of a warm body against his.  Remembering, his smile was brilliant.

“You stayed?”

“Course I did, Curly, Couldn’t leave you with all that sniffing going on.”

He regretted it the moment the words left his lips. Harry’s face fell, until he saw that Louis was smiling.

“Thanks, Lou.” He rubbed the heel of his hand across his swollen eyes.

“Anytime.” Louis’ voice was sleep-rough. He needed tea. “You need a hug, you call me, yeah? I can’t bear to see you upset.”

If his cheeks went a little pink at this tender declaration, Harry didn’t comment on it. He nodded, biting down on his plump lower lip, watching Louis’ eyes drop to watch for a second before a feather-light thumb traced across that lip, loosening it from his teeth.

“Give your lip a break. It’ll get sore if you keep on chewing it.”

_And I want to kiss it better._

The thought was there, uninvited, but not unwelcome, and Louis shook with the realisation that somehow overnight their relationship had shifted, begun to morph into something more. Harry’s eyes fluttered at the fleeting touch, so intimate, and his breath hitched audibly, enough to make Louis thicken a fraction more that he’d like when morning wood was already an issue. With a smile that scrunched up his eyes and nose like a gorgeous little chipmunk in Harry’s eyes, he nudged Harry’s nose with his own before untangling himself and heading to the bathroom, trying his hardest, no pun intended, to hide the tent in his pyjamas. Closing the bathroom door behind him, he flicked the lock and leaned against the sink, looking into the water-spotted mirror. Touching Harry’s lip, Harry’s reaction had not been that of a brother, nor a best friend. He had melted into that tiny caress – a puppy demanding attention and devotion. It was clear to Louis that Harry looked at him differently now, with a hunger that made his heart clench with longing.

Waking up beside Harry had been too comfortable, too easy, as if they had always slept that way. Squashed together, Harry’s head on Louis’ shoulder felt so right, a missing piece of the puzzle that was his life. Staring into his own eyes in the dirty mirror he saw fear, tinged with determination. If Harry asked him to sleep in his bed one more time, Louis would accept that as tacit acceptance of their change in friendship status. If he didn’t, well… Louis didn’t want to think about that. It made his heart thump too hard and his stomach muscles clench in a bad way.

Harry lay in bed after Louis had made his way to the toilet, trying to make sense of what had just happened. His feelings for Louis were growing stronger every minute he spent with him, but to wake up and find him still in his bed was monumental. He would never have asked for him to join him, crying like a baby in his own bed because of a storm. He had been so embarrassed that he had even been heard, and stunned when he felt him climb into his bed and hold him close for comfort.

_‘Anytime you need a hug you call me, yeah?’_

How could he even begin to verbalise that he needed so many more, that all he wanted in the world was _Louis._

The following few days were filled with rehearsals. There was little time for too much thought – they were worked until they fell into bed. However, tiredness did not always equal sleep, and Louis lay awake, his mind whirling with everything the day had thrown at them. He snuggled deeper into his mattress, restless and lonely, missing home so much more that he had thought he would. Harry’s husky sleep-heavy voice whispered through the dark.

“Louis? Are you awake? I really miss my mum and I could use some company. It’s okay if you’re asleep though.”

Louis smiled to himself at those last words before throwing back his covers in grateful relief and creeping over to Harry’s bed, slipping in beside him, feeling his warmth seep into his bones. Harry melted into his arms with a snuffly ‘I’m sorry’. Louis just held him tighter for reassurance, mumbling “’s’alright, Haz, I miss my mum too.” He felt Harry’s breath on his neck.

“Thanks, Lou. I really needed a cuddle and yours are the best.”

“Yours are pretty good too, Haz.”

Without thinking, he pressed his lips to Harry’s forehead, feeling him snuggle closer in response. Harry’s quiet voice was muffled against his shoulder.

“Are you awake cos you’re missing your family too?”

“Yeah, a bit.” _And I wanted to be here with you._

“It’s weird being here and not having Mum and Gems in the house. It’s fun during the day, but I feel alone at night. I don’t like it. The storm was the final straw for me. I don’t cry this much at home, honest.”

His voice wobbled, and Louis’ heart felt like a dagger had pierced it. He couldn’t bear seeing Harry like this, vulnerable and scared.

“It’s doesn’t matter if you do. I’m here for you whenever you want. Every night if you want it.”

The moment the words left his mouth, he wanted to bite them back. Too much, too fast, yet Harry’s response was immediate.

“Could we push the beds together? Then if I get upset, you’re there…”

He looked up then, eyes glassy with tears in the dim light. Louis’ hand brushed back the messy curls that he loved, trying to pretend he wasn’t using any excuse at all to touch them.

“I think that’s a cracking idea. Then neither of us has to be alone.”

Harry’s watery smile made his heart swell to dangerous proportions in his tight chest.

~xXx~

The following day, after rehearsals for that week’s show were done, they ran back to their room before tea and set about changing the furniture layout. There wasn’t a huge amount of room, but by turning the beds around they were able to fit both side by side under the window, the wardrobe moved to the opposite wall. Harry proclaimed it a success – he could now sit on the bed (singular – they both secretly thought of it as _their_ bed now) and watch what was going on outside. To make the covers work they still had their own duvets, but could easily overlap them if they wanted to snuggle up. Hearing the commotion, Zayn and Niall burst in and stopped dead when they saw the ‘double’ bed in its new position. They turned in unison, eyebrows raised. Harry kept quiet, but his smile lit the room. Louis just glared at the pair of them, more pointedly at Zayn, having caught him admiring Liam’s arse more than once when he was bent over the washing machine.

“So, uhh… what’s happening, lads?” Niall looked confused.

Louis shrugged, nonchalant outwardly, despite the inner turmoil bubbling within. “If it helps Haz sleep easier, having me close by, who am I to say no? It’s the least I could do for a mate.”

He tried not to look at Harry, worried his face may let on more than he cared to disclose. He hadn’t figured it out in his own mind yet, these feelings of strong affection for young Harold were new and confusing. He needed time to process. Harry himself was happy as a spring lamb, all bouncy and bright, loving that he could reach out and touch Louis at night without even needing to wake him. Waking him had its compensations though: he got cuddles that way, and he slept so much better in Louis’ arms than he did alone.

 _Better not tell Louis that._ _He might want his own space again, away from his cry-baby bandmate._

Harry couldn’t deny he felt vulnerable being the youngest, despite the fact that the others were brilliant and felt like friends already. He just felt like he had more to prove, his voice not as controlled as Liam’s, not as powerful as Zayn’s. He didn’t know how he would’ve coped without Louis; he made it all better, made the world shine a little brighter just by being in it. And Louis was fun. So much fun to be around. His quick wit and crazy ideas just swept Harry along with him and he was happy to be a part of the crazy ride. Louis distracted him from missing home, helped him cope, and in exchange Harry kept their room tidy, cleaned up after Louis and even did his laundry.

“It’s not my forte, young Harold,” he’d announced when they first moved into their room. “I’m more managerial in my skills.”

By that he meant giving orders and running away laughing when the others threw whatever they had to hand at him. Harry didn’t care that Louis was messy and loud, loud, loud. He couldn’t get enough of being close to him, watching him with the others, listening to his stories about home, his friends and family, and now he got to sleep alongside him too (he couldn’t say ‘sleep with’ even to himself as it ignited images in his head that made him shake). He’d kissed people before, of course he had. He’d kissed his first boyfriend a few times, innocent kisses, and he’d kissed Hannah, his girlfriend from home, but he’d never felt the pull he felt to Louis.

He was still waiting for his ‘proper’ first kiss, one that really mattered. He wondered how soft Louis’ lips were, how they would move against his own, how he tasted… and he still had no idea if this fantasy of his was just an unrequited schoolboy crush on a more mature boy. It just didn’t seem likely that a boy as beautiful as Louis could ever want that from _him._ He tried to mesh all of this in his head with Louis’ offer to share their bed space.

_He wouldn’t if he didn’t want to. Maybe it was to shut me up so his sleep isn’t interrupted every night._

That thought hurt Harry’s heart because Louis had sounded genuine. He’d been so happy to wake up in Louis’ arms that he’d had to keep his knees bent up to hide his pleased response. At the end of the day, morning wood was just morning wood, at least it was until you woke up next to a gorgeous older boy. Then… then it could so easily become much more meaningful. Louis had jumped out of bed pretty fast, but he _had_ kissed Harry the night before – yes, it was on the forehead, but it counted, didn’t it? Louis had _kissed_ him. Harry held on to that memory, wondering if it was a one-off or if it could be the first of many.

Tea that evening was the usual noisy affair, the house full of ambitious performers all wanting to be heard. Harry watched Louis play flirt and tease the other boys, his usual outgoing self, yet now he felt a barbed jealousy at the attention. Not that he had any reason or right to feel that way about his friend, not after their talk, but he found it hard to control the hurt that lanced through him, his happy face creasing into a small frown. He made himself look away, not wanting the others to see how affected he was by it all. He wanted to run and hide in their room, but that could raise too many questions, so he stayed and watched TV with the rest.

It was getting late when Louis crashed onto the sofa, leaning into Harry for a moment, his eyes tired, but expectant.

“Bed time, young Harold.”

Harry felt his mouth tug up at the corners, his involuntary smile spreading across his face. It was that very smile that made Louis’ insides melt, the way Harry’s eyes softened and brightened at the mere sight of him. For his part, Louis was too scared to spend much time around Harry in the house, needing more that he reckoned Harry would be ready for. Truth was though, he didn’t know how much longer he could hold back from pushing further, from kissing that sweet, adorable boy on those plush, pink lips that were sinfully inviting.

_Don’t think about it. He’s too young. He doesn’t know what he wants yet._

Louis chanted the words in his head to chase away the thoughts, telling himself how inappropriate it all was, how mad Simon Cowell would get if anything happened. Problem was, when Harry smiled just for him, all blush and dimples, or blinked sad eyes in his direction, all was lost again.

Harry pushed himself up from the couch, heading off to the bathroom. This would be their first night in _their_ bed, and Harry was so happy he felt like his body was made of atoms, everywhere at once in its uncontained joy. Just the thought of being close to Louis _every night_ was a heady notion. He washed his face, cleaning his teeth while checking for any new spots. He wanted to look his best for Louis, even if it was dark. He wondered if he dared to just snuggle without any ‘real’ reason. Would Louis be okay with that? He fretted, rinsing his mouth and baring his teeth at his reflection to check they were spotless.

Taking a deep breath, he turned and headed back to their room. Seeing Louis dressed for bed in just baggy pyjama bottoms with ragged hems that scuffed the carpet, just standing waiting to use the bathroom, set his stomach on edge, anticipation and nerves fizzing and burning through his system. He wondered if he was blushing which was ridiculous. It was just… this was _planned_ , this was a mutual choice to sleep in the same bed.

Louis nipped into the bathroom and Harry heard water in the sink, the flush of the toilet, the spitting of toothpaste. Shaking himself, Harry stepped over to the bed and climbed in, keeping to _his_ side, the way it had been when Louis had joined him during the night. He ran his hand across the join in the mattresses, the extra pillow next to his that smelled like Louis’ shampoo, and took a quick guilty breath of his scent, not wanting to assume anything about tonight or any of the nights to follow. Hearing the door open and snick closed, he pulled his arm back and waiting for Louis to get in and turn off the light.

Louis closed their bedroom door and crossed the small room to his bed. Pulling back the covers, he scrambled in, pulling his duvet up to his neck whilst reaching for the lamp switch.

“It’s chilly tonight. The heating’s already off.”

He rolled onto his side to look at Harry who in turn was watching him in the semi darkness, the room partially lit by streetlamps across from the house. For a long moment he gazed at Harry’s doe-eyes, their faces separated by a pillow’s length, and too damn far away.

“Want a hug to warm up?” He tried, he really did, to keep it casual, but his heart was pounding, pulling him towards Harry like a ship to the rocks that would crush and destroy him. Harry nodded, his teeth worrying his lip. Louis swallowed. “Your side or mine?”

It should’ve been funny, light, jokey, but instead there was a pause until Harry’s deep voice answered in a whisper. “Yours”.

He shuffled over into Louis’ waiting arms, pulling his pillow too, but only wanting to bury his face in something that smelled like Louis, that indescribable scent that already smelled like home to Harry. Louis’ arms drew him in, holding him close enough for Harry to hear his heart beating way faster that it should’ve been. Harry knew this because his was racing too; it felt like his chest were bouncing up and down with the force of it, just like in those old Tom and Jerry cartoons he’d loved growing up.

Louis’ hand brushed Harry’s jaw and freed his lip from the nervous hold of his teeth. Louis’ swallow was audible, a dry click when he touched his warm skin, registering the way Harry moved into the caress like a cat, still watching him in silence, big, wide eyes fixed on his own, just waiting. Louis wasn’t exactly sure, but he wanted to remind Harry to breathe in case he passed out. So much innocence in those eyes, those lips a contradiction that had no right being in the same vicinity of wide, green eyes that melted his resolve. He’d never dated a boy, but he knew Harry had when he was young. Both had had recent girlfriends that hadn’t worked out, and Louis was coming to terms with the fact that there may well be a reason for that. Was he gay? He didn’t know. The idea of dating a boy was troubling him, but that wasn’t it. It was dating _Harry_ that he was beginning to fixate on, holding his hand while they walked, holding him close when he slept… kissing those pink lips…

Ay, there’s the rub, Shakespeare had said, and he was right. His flirting with Aiden had been interesting and not unenjoyable, so maybe it wasn’t a question of being gay anymore. Maybe it was just a question of being so very attracted to Harry, so unlike anyone else he had ever met. So soft, quiet, with an explosive laugh comparable to a sea lion’s mating call, ready to make fun whenever Louis asked. He was a mixture of opposites, but this Harry, the soft, compliant one in his arms, was his secret favourite.

Seemingly giving up for now, Harry buried his face in Louis’ chest, holding him like a lifeline. He drifted off into slumber, and Louis, still wide awake with his beautiful boy in his arms, heard him breathe out a barely audible whisper.

“Love you, Lou.”

Sleep was a long time coming that night. Louis’ head whirled with those three words orbiting his tired mind: _love you, Lou._ In the dark he lay and listened to those words again and again in Harry’s scratchy, sleepy voice, knowing he had been on the brink of sleep when he spoke, that he may not remember them in the morning. Odds were he would though. Would he want a response?

_Oh man, was this going to get weird now?_

He had feelings for Harry, he knew that, but vocalising them… he hadn’t done that to himself yet so how could he try and explain that to Harry? He endeavoured to break it down, to find the core. Right now he had a warm glow in his chest from Harry’s declaration, a feeling he hadn’t felt since, well… ever, if he was honest.

He was used to love – his family, his little sisters – he loved them all and they him. He knew that kind of love, and in at least one way this resembled that. After all, he had felt protective of Harry from the start, wanting to keep him close, loving it when he could make him laugh, his whole face alight with mirth. No one else seemed to have that effect, not that Louis had noticed anyway. Harry was friendly, always upbeat, bobbing about backstage in his various assortment of coloured beanies and being lovely to everyone. He was a little shy around new people, terrified when one of judges had spoken to him directly during rehearsals, blushing and nodding his response, almost monosyllabic with nerves. He had relaxed only when Louis had sidled over and stood close enough to offer the illusion of comfort and support. He remembered now that he had almost walked over and taken Harry’s hand, somehow knowing he wouldn’t refuse if he did. He had held back, feeling a fierce instinct to be close, to make sure no one hurt Harry. Looking at it with a rational mind, it was something anyone would do for a mate, well maybe not hold his hand, but still.

_So why do you hold him in your arms all night, Louis? He’s safe and protected in this room, in this bed. And what about that, Louis? Pretty quick to offer your ongoing services weren’t you? He suggested the beds and you didn’t hesitate, did you? Jumped right in and agreed didn’t you? Why did you do that, Louis?_

Helpfully, his mind then supplied images of Harry’s wet eyes, soft and lost, of bright green eyes full of laughter and mischief, darkened eyes at night when they were close, like they were now. And then there were his lips. God, how he wanted those lips. He had touched them twice now, unable to hold back, his hand reaching out without prior consent from his rational brain. Of course Harry thought he was in love – why wouldn’t he? Louis was acting exactly the same way, giving him all the signals that he was interested. He had noticed that Harry watched his mouth when he talked, seeming to zone out into his own little world. His eyes would be hooded, sleepy, hypnotised by Louis’ banter that more than likely irritated so many others.

Not Harry.

Everything Louis said was important, nothing about him was worthless in his eyes, and Louis felt unworthy of that level of devotion. Harry hadn’t touched him in any way to make feel he was pushing him. When they cuddled he slept with his curly head on Louis’ chest or in his neck. Close enough to kiss his skin if he wanted to. Maybe he did when Louis slept – how would he know?

That reminded him again of kissing Harry’s forehead, a gesture his sane self would never have allowed. In an involuntary movement his hand ruffled the soft curls spread across his skin. A slight murmur escaped Harry – or was that a moan? Not as deeply asleep as he had presumed. Threading his fingers through the soft strands, he let the length of it run through them and waited to see if it had the same effect. What happened instead was his boy nuzzling into the caress, a low groan rumbling out of his throat, a contented puppy noise that send shivers through Louis, his hand stilling, breathing shallow.

“Don’t stop.”

The soft mumble whispered over his bare skin, warm breath fanning out, causing a temperature spike in his brain.

“Sorry – sorry, Haz.” His words were so quiet, but enough for Harry to lift his head to rest his chin on Louis’ chest, looking up at him like the face of an angel. He blinked slow, once, twice, so exquisitely _Harry,_ and asked the quiet question: “Sorry for what?”

Flustered, the response was only partly true.

“For waking you. I’m sorry. I couldn’t sleep, mind’s too busy thinking about Saturday night.”

_Liar._

Harry looked a little sad, or maybe Louis just saw what he expected to see.

“Don’t worry, Lou. It’ll be good. Rehearsals are going great. You need to sleep though. Come on, try. You can play with my hair some more if you’d like. Feels so good.”

Louis smiled.

“I’m being slowly seduced by your curls, Haz.”

The answering smile was beatific, his eyes soft and expressive.

“That was my plan.”

Louis’ head spun, but his answer came fast.

“Can I spoon you?”

Harry’s grin widened.

“I’d really like that.”

Rolling himself over, Harry felt Louis settle in behind him, their bodies curving into each other, warm and safe. Harry fell asleep with Louis’ arms around him, his nose in his hair, soft breath warming Harry’s neck and throat.  

~xXx~

They woke to the usual commotion and noise, but weren’t disturbed this time due to Louis’ foresight when he had locked the door the night before. The banging on the door did not yield the desired response to the lads outside. Louis lifted his head just enough to yell “Bugger off, bastards!” at the closed door, hearing Harry’s giggles muffled in his pillow.

Thanks to their wake-up call they were spared what could have been an awkward conversation in the cold light of day. Dressing in yesterday’s trackies and sweatshirts, Harry donning a beanie, they headed to the kitchen. Niall looked up, a massive grin plastered across his face, mouth stuffed with bacon. Swallowing a good half of its contents in one gulp, he pointed to them both with his fork.

“Locked door, eh? Anything we need to know?” He disintegrated into cackles at his own thoughts and at the faces glaring back at him. Both hid their confusion from the other housemates and from each other behind defensive comments. Louis knew they had to have a talk, and soon, but he was at a loss as to what to say. Hurting Harry was not an option, he couldn’t do it, but something had to give to release the pressure valve on their evolving friendship.

As it turned out, that moment came rather sooner than either of them expected, and changed everything in a second.

~xXx~

That week they got to go home, with cameras in tow of course, but they would at least get some time with their families once the filming was over. Louis and Harry talked on the phone when they could, trying to keep their conversations low, neither saying aloud how hard they were both finding it to sleep even though their own beds were comforting and familiar. The cameras filmed them going to their old schools, and into local shops where they found their faces plastered across huge ‘vote’ posters in the windows.

Their mothers and families were so happy to have their boys back home, but both secretly hoped it wouldn’t be for long, wanting so much for them to be a success. Harry loved being home in Cheshire, walking around somewhere he wouldn’t get hassled, enjoying the fresh air and open spaces. The problem was it also gave him too much time to miss Louis. Despite loving home, he had always dreamed of London, and now he had double the reason to return.

Louis went home to his mum and his sisters, everyone ecstatic to see him again, and he too did the rounds of promotion, visiting his past to celebrate his hopeful future. Talking to Harry each night before bed, they shared details of their days, laughing at private jokes and wondering what the future held. Missing Harry was an ache that worsened at night, his arms empty, his heart unfulfilled. He told himself it was only for a few days and then they would be back in London, in their bed.

When the week was up everyone agreed it had been brilliant going home, seeing friends and family again and spending time in their own personal space, but Louis and Harry both struggled to hide how happy they were to be back in London. Watching Liam and Niall hefting their bags of fresh clothes up the steps to the front door, Harry grinned at them, but made no move to go in. Niall raised an eyebrow at him.

“How long do you intend to wait out here, Harry? It’s bloody cold.”

Harry’s cheeks were red from the biting December chill, but he made no move to follow until Matt went back outside and made him go inside, sending him up to his room to start unpacking. When he pushed open the door he was ambushed by a beaming Louis, the two of them leaping into each other’s arms and collapsing onto their bed, all giggles and trying to talk over each other in their excitement. They talked about home and football and friends non-stop, and all through tea with the others that same evening, until it was time to crash and get ready for work to begin again the next morning.

It really was amazing, Harry thought, that they had been back in the house less than four hours and their room was already trashed. Louis hadn’t so much unpacked as strewn his clean clothes across the carpet. Harry made a note to try and hang some of it the next day so at least he had some clean and ironed clothes to wear for the next week. Getting himself ready for bed, he wandered around in just a small pair of pants, more comfortable wearing little or nothing at all, and blissfully unaware of the effect his near nakedness was having on Louis who was breathing with some difficulty, trying hard not to focus on the not inconsiderable bulge on blatant display. He swallowed hard and climbed under the covers, wearing his old, soft pyjama bottoms, determined not to watch Harry walk the short distance from the bathroom to the bed.

Harry clambered onto the mattress, slithering under the covers. Louis’s eyes squeezed closed at the feel of warm, bare skin brushing across his stomach, of soft hair caressing his shoulder, his chest so tight he struggled to breathe.

“Mmmm. I missed this. I don’t like sleeping on my own anymore.” Harry’s smile was dazzling, eyes bright. Louis looked into those green depths and felt a pull strong enough to knock the breath out of him. Without his consent, his fingers wound themselves into the soft curls that tickled his skin, while an errant thumb traced the arch of Harry’s eyebrow. His reward was the flutter of eyelashes against a pink cheek, the contented sigh of someone who knew where they were meant to be.

Louis snuggled into his pillow, holding Harry close, stroking his face until the sound of his breathing evened out.

Trying to reconcile common sense with overwhelming yearning, he didn’t fall asleep for the longest time.

~xXx~

 

Back at the studios, rehearsals were going full bore so close to the upcoming final in a week’s time. That was until they ran through the second number from the top for the Saturday performance, their song with the celebrity guest for the semi-final part of the two day finale. The judges were all there in their mentoring capacity, to offer advice and guidance. That day, Harry tried and failed to hold the killer note at the end of the song, cutting it off halfway, running out of air. Louis saw the horror on his face, Simon watching and frowning, walking up to Harry, putting his hand on his shoulder. All Louis heard was “It has to be perfect on Saturday, there’s no room for this kind of mistake at this late stage. Can’t have you letting the side down with Robbie. I thought better of you, Harry.”

He stalked off, stiff-backed, and Harry bolted, Louis in hot pursuit. He caught up with him in a backstage corridor, his head on his knees, sobbing into his folded arms. Louis thought his heart would break at that sound. Hearing Louis’ footsteps, Harry looked up, eyes red-rimmed, eyelashes wet and clumped together, his voice small and scared.

“I fucked up, Lou.” He wiped his eyes with his sleeve, the gesture so simple and innocent that Louis’ heart clenched hard. “I’m going to ruin it for the band. I’m not good enough.”

Louis crouched in front of him. “Don’t talk crap. You’re amazing, everyone out there knows it too. You’re going to be a huge star, Haz. We’ll be the lucky ones if we get to be with you for it.”

“Simon’s really angry.” His breath hitched, his words coming between hiccups and tears.

Harry hunched even smaller into himself until Louis knelt down and pulled him into his arms, rocking him to soothe his anguish.

“Well _he_ couldn’t bloody do it, could he? It was just a breathing thing, that’s all. Next time you take a bigger breath before the note and you’ll rip the roof off with it. I know you can do it, Haz. I’ve heard you sing all over the house. We’ll go see the vocal coach to make sure. Don’t doubt yourself.”

Harry clung to him, sobs abating now that he felt safe and protected from the outside world in Louis’ comforting arms. His snuffles subsided and they stayed wrapped around each other until Harry tilted his head up to look at Louis, his glossy eyes luminous in his beautiful face. They asked a question without words, and waited for the answer to come in whatever form it chose to take. Louis’ chest felt tight and he realised he hadn’t taken a breath in several seconds. When he did, it was a desperate gasp. Harry’s face was right _there,_ waiting, just waiting, his eyes the most beautiful green in that moment, the colour of a forest in midsummer. It was all very clear then. In that one moment of clarity Louis saw his entire future laid out before him, and the key to that happiness was in his arms right now, watching him with such hopeful intent that Louis forgot his age, his tender, newfound maturity. All Louis saw was his own thoughts reflected back at him in those depths where all hope resided. His thumb traced a cheekbone, sliding down the baby-soft jaw, caressing the edge of his lower lip, Harry’s eyes fluttering when he did so.

_Fuck._

His head had to dip but a fraction, his thumb against Harry’s chin, and their lips were touching, a soft brush to tantalise the senses into craving so much more. The moment was so tender, so unexpected, that Louis couldn’t find a reason to apologise. He saw the delicate bloom of colour in Harry’s cheeks, the dark depths of his blown pupils, and knew that all the excuses in the world couldn’t have prevented this from happening. This was a set point in time that they were always going to encounter no matter how many times Louis tried to avoid it. It was Harry who instigated the second kiss, this time with a little more force, his plush lips embracing Louis’ and encouraging them to dance. Their lips tasted of salt water and promises. Harry deepened the kiss, dragging Louis under, a wave of relief and joy crashing over them both. Louis finally acknowledged to himself that he had wanted this all along, had tried to deny it, to find reasons _not_ to want it, yet every cell of his body was screaming at him to stay close, to never let Harry go. They broke apart, foreheads touching and chests heaving, each gazing at the other with childlike wonder.

Harry had stopped crying, looking so happy he glowed, pink-cheeked, with lips swollen and dark. He was a beautiful sight. His smile spread, echoing Louis’ own heart. In that second Harry felt ready to run back onstage and belt out their song, to show the world what Harry Styles was made of.

_I kissed Louis! And he kissed me back!_

Louis touched his lips to Harry’s again, tilting his head and burying a hand in his curls, the dislodged beanie falling to the floor. They lost all idea of time, sitting in the corridor snogging like the teenagers they were. Harry felt dizzy, ecstatic, and yet couldn’t stop. It wasn’t until they heard the others leaving the stage, clattering down the steps, loud chatter drifting down the corridor, that they sprang apart and fled, hand in hand, out to the waiting cars and back to the house, heading upstairs to the privacy of their room.

With their emotional barriers in tatters around their feet, Louis cupped Harry’s face and drew him into a slow kiss, pressing him up against the closed door feeling Harry slump into the embrace, his arms slung around Louis’ neck. Louis’ hands explored the length of his back, the curve of his neck and up into his hair, tugging at the soft strands when the kiss grew more intense, Harry moaning at the myriad of sensation that swamped him. His tongue found Louis’, little flicks that ignited a fire, his lungs too small suddenly, his skin too tight to contain the pleasure that crackled beneath the surface, sure that sparks would leave his fingers and burn charred designs into Louis’ flesh wherever they touched. Almost unable to breathe, his chest constricted with lust, his head fell back against the door, his breathing loud and desperate to Louis’ ears. Harry’s skin was dappled pink, his cheeks, his dark lips and his flushed chest the colour of pleasure. Louis’ looked at the exposed throat and neck, leaning in with a groan to run his tongue from shoulder to ear, hearing whimpers when his hot breath teased the wet skin. Pulling Harry’s baggy shirt off his shoulder, he nipped the skin across his collar bone before sucking a bruise into the delicate, pale skin, watching it bloom, livid and real. His chest hitched at the sight before him, Harry pinned to the door, clothing askew, marked and claimed by Louis’ mouth.

He looked _glorious._

Sucking soft kisses to the skin of his neck, Louis made his way back up to Harry’s parted lips, claiming them again with a loud sigh that filled the small room, feeling Harry’s moan of pained need rumbling through his own body. He was hard, pressed against Louis there was nowhere to hide, and Louis was in near fucking pain with the need to touch him. Both of them wearing trackies was a bonus – everything was so accessible that way – but a fast hand job against the door was not the right way for this to go. Louis wanted to watch Harry come apart, you bet he did, but not up against a hard doorframe. If this was going to be both their first times with another boy then it should at least be somewhere more comfortable. Slipping his hands around Haz’s waist, he all but carried him to their bed, Harry’s legs boneless and uncoordinated.  Collapsing in an ungainly heap, the pair of them lay tangled up across the two mattresses. Louis looked deep into Harry’s darkened eyes while sliding his hand in a tentative move down to the tented bulge in his trackies. _My god… he’s massive._ Harry held his breath, his eyes fluttering closed when he felt the heat of Louis’ hand through the fabric, felt his fingers grasp and pump his flesh, the movement hesitant, gauging his reaction.

“ _Please_ , _Lou!_ Touch me properly _…”_ his voice tailed off into a gritted teeth plea.

Louis swallowed hard.

“Never… never done this before. You sure?”

Harry bit his lip in that way that drove Louis crazy, his eyes wide and pleading, before answering with a nod, never breaking that gaze.

Louis’s hand stroked the soft, soft skin of Harry’s stomach, watching it jump, running a finger across the top of the waistband before easing it down a fraction at a time until Harry’s swollen cock emerged, flushed as pink as the rest of him. It was the first time Harry had showed his aroused naked body to another boy, and it felt both terrifying and exhilarating.

For Louis, it was a movement of discovery, of realisation that this was where his life had been leading. He wrapped his hand around the turgid cock, feeling the heat of the blood that filled it, so swollen that the size of it filled Louis’ hand and then some. Harry almost came on the spot just because it was _Louis,_ but held on, tensing his stomach, wanting to enjoy every second until he couldn’t hold on a fraction longer. Skin on skin felt so different when it was someone else’s hand, someone else’s rhythm and grip. Louis captured his lips again, the kiss gentle, slow and deliberate, helping to focus Harry away from imminent orgasm. Harry felt like he was flying, held down only by Louis’ touch, his lips, his warm hand encasing him so perfectly… Too soon though he felt the fire blaze, the heat intensifying until his body shook under Louis, warm jets painting his stomach and Louis’ hand, shuddering with release, his mouth open in wordless ecstasy. He turned his head to Louis, sleepy-eyed and flushed, his smile bright enough to light a city. He had never looked more beautiful to Louis in that moment.

“Wow. Just… wow. Louis, that was amazing.”

He couldn’t take his eyes off of Louis, the way his blue eyes burned like ice fire. He realised that Louis was still dressed, while he was half naked and sticky. His feet scrabbled together, pulling at his socks.

“Lou? Hand me my socks? No point asking for yours since you don’t wear any.”

Frowning a little, Louis reached down and pulled the socks from his feet, handing them to Harry who bundled them up and mopped up the mess on his stomach and t shirt. Reaching for Louis’ hand, he wiped it clean, hurling the socks over the side of the bed to fester before pulling Louis into a heart stopping kiss, rolling him onto his back. His fingers slipped under Louis’ waistband before he could protest, to say he didn’t have to return the favour, and warm fingers found Louis’ throbbing cock, giving it an experimental squeeze, loving the hissed response. Nudging his nose, his smile broadened and he shuffled down the bed until he was able to place warm kisses under Louis’ sweatshirt, following the line of his happy trail from his bellybutton to the soft skin of his stomach. When he nuzzled his tummy, Louis flinched, and Harry looked up at him with questions in his wide eyes.

“I… uhm… sorry, just a bit self-conscious. I don’t like my stomach. It’s pudgy and embarrassing.”

“No it’s not. It’s part of you and every bit of you is perfect.” He pressed kisses to Louis’ tummy, nuzzling lower and lower until Louis forgot all about his embarrassment, squirming with need, his cock hard and demanding in his trackies.

“Haz… wha-what are you doing?” His voice sounded rough and scratchy to his own ears when he realised that Harry’s lips were still heading south. Harry looked up under his lashes, his hands peeling down the waistband to get to his cock straining to escape.

“Wanna suck you, Lou. Never done it before, but really want to try.”

Louis sucked in his breath.

“I’ve not had that before either.”

Harry brightened.

“A first for both of us then.”

Mute, Louis nodded, frozen in anticipation, then gasped when a warm tongue touched the tip of his cock, licking across the head. Harry mouthed back his foreskin and took the head into his mouth, his tongue learning the shape while he sucked. Louis’ eyes were squeezed shut, trying so hard to not come on the spot at the feel of Harry’s warm, wet mouth, his tentative licks sending sparks through his body. He reminded himself to breathe, and to not buck up and choke Harry, until Harry’s hands settled on his hips, holding him still while taking his cock deeper into his mouth, trying not to retch when he went too far. Louis’ balls tightened, Harry’s inexperience more erotic than he could’ve ever predicted. He lifted his head, reaching out to touch Harry’s cheek to warn him that he was close already, trying to tell him to stop. Harry shook his head, his cheeks hollowed, but Louis gritted his teeth and pulled his cock partway out of his warm, heavenly mouth just as Harry’s tongue flicked the sensitive underside. Losing his grip on his flimsy self-control, Louis filled Harry’s mouth, seeing it leak out of the corners before he managed to swallow, tongue sweeping his lips to catch it all. He looked inordinately proud that he had made Louis come, his eyes sparkling, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Was that okay?”

Despite Louis’ pink cheeks and heaving chest, Harry still worried that his first time may have been a disappointment. Louis looked at him in bewilderment, reaching out to pull him into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry I didn’t last long, but that was fucking incredible, Haz. I am so doing that for you next time. You have to know what that feels like.”

He pressed his lips to Harry’s, tasting himself on his tongue and not caring. Harry giggled and squirmed closer still, big green eyes glowing with hope.

“Could next time be tonight?”

~xXx~

 

The others were cooking tea, the usual banter filling the room. Niall took one look at them from across the room, shoulder to shoulder at the worktop, whispering, acting more loved up than usual for all the world to see, and his grin threatened to tear his face apart. Sneaking up behind them when the others left the room, he flung his arms around their shoulders.

“You two fucked.”

It was a flat-out statement. They blushed, hands reaching for each other and stalling, trying so hard to be cool, but unable to meet each other’s eyes for fear of the world seeing their happiness. Louis carried on making his sandwich, squirting ketchup on the sausages.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Niall. You’re nothing but a spurious scandalmonger.”

The smile in his voice made Harry snort with laughter and look at Louis under his soot-black lashes, biting his lower lip and blushing harder. Niall laughed hard and headed out to the balcony before pausing, his face suddenly worried.

“Whatever, lads. But remember that the pair of you can’t lie for shit.” He paused. “Just don’t get caught, yeah?”

~xXx~

 

That night, Louis had a question for Harry, one he’d been thinking about for ever it seemed, right back to that first meeting when he’d felt that Harry was going to be important. Climbing into bed, he rolled onto his side and propped his head on his hand. Harry watched him, waiting for whatever was to follow.

“So, uhm, what are we going to do once we leave here? If we win then it’s going to be a busy time, but if we don’t… I mean, are you going to go home or…” He rubbed his face, knowing what a hash he was making of this. “I guess what I’m saying is that I’d like to stay in London, see if the band can stay together and maybe get a gig or two? Liam’s already said he wants to stay here and Zayn too. Niall seems keen. What about you? Are you going to stay?”

Harry smiled that slow smile of his that made thinking really difficult for Louis.

“Mum’ll be here this weekend for the show. I’ll talk to her about it. But to answer your question right now… I want to stay if the others are. If _you_ are.”

Louis jerked up, his hand slapping down on the pillow in excitement.

“Really? You do?”

“Of course, Lou. I want to be where you are. Plus I want to see if we can make a go of this band, no matter what happens. We’ve put a lot of work in and we’re so close now.” He bit his lip, a sure sign he had an idea, but was nervous about sharing. Louis’ head cocked to the side.

“What is it?”

“Well…” Harry chose his words carefully. “We’d have to rent somewhere all together because there’s no way my Mum’ll ever let me stay in London by myself.”

Louis breathed out in a loud huff.

“She’s got a point. Mine probably wouldn’t be too keen and I’m eighteen. Mine will be down at the weekend too so we’ll get together and talk after the show. Just so we’re both on the same page though, yeah? You want to stay? With me?”

He tried so hard to sound casual, but, with his nose all scrunched like a scared chipmunk, Harry saw his insecurity shining through. Wriggling closer to Louis, he leaned up to face him, tilting his head and planting a soft open mouthed kiss on his worried frown.

“I want to be with you, Lou.”

He waited for it to sink in, to see Louis’ face smooth out into a warm smile, his eyes crinkled with undisguised joy, and then kissed him again and again.

 

~xXx~

Rehearsals were ramped up for the semi-final and Harry was determined to prove he could pull off the note at the end of the second song with Robbie Williams. Zayn’s solo was perfection, and Harry felt nerves eating at his stomach, worried about letting the others down. Liam just had that natural confidence both on and off stage, and the others gravitated to him for support and advice. Except Harry. Harry was close to the other lads, sure, but Louis was his touchstone, the one who believed in him above everyone else. He practiced when he was alone, walking the grounds, until disaster struck midweek and he woke up with a sore throat, sounding like a strangled crow. Panicked, he rushed to see the medical team who put him on immediate vocal rest until Saturday rehearsals prior to the show that evening. He was mortified, sure now he had wrecked it for them.

Liam, Niall and Zayn rallied around him, making him as much tea as he wanted, lots of honey in it for relief, and generally making sure he wasn’t tempted to talk in any way. He wore a small wipe board with a pen attached, and had to write all his responses when addressed directly. Naturally the others loved to take the mickey knowing he couldn’t write responses fast enough to get his own back. Eventually he wrote FUCK OFF on it and wore it around the house, pointing at it with a glare whilst being cuddled by a protective Louis.

It was Louis that made sure he got plenty of air and rest, determined to do everything he could to help his boy get better. He knew that Harry would beat himself up if he were unable to perform, despite the fact that the boys would cover his part if need be. He chose not to tell Harry that Simon had already covered that, with Liam in place to take over Harry’s vocals if need be. They all hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. Harry’s voice was unique, as were they all, and to have him missing from the mix weakened their sound. This worked well until Friday when Harry appeared at rehearsals to watch. It was obvious that someone had to sing his part for them to be able to get through the songs, but his face dropped to his shoes when he heard his lines coming from someone else.

Louis watched him quietly leave, shoulders slouched, board bouncing against his chest and a part of him wanted to die. When they were done, he set off in search of his boy. He finally found him tucked up against the balcony railings, gazing into space.

“Haz? You alright?”

The squeak of Harry’s pen filled the silence. Turning the board around, Louis read the words aloud:

“They don’t think I’m going to be there on Saturday.”

Harry wiped it clean with his sleeve.

“Yes, they do, Haz. They’re taking precautions, that’s all. Hopefully your throat will be all better, but you should be able to get some numbing spray if not, just to get you through the performance. Hopefully we’ll only need the one.”

Harry looked forlorn, tucking his knees up tighter into his body. Louis recognised the signs.

“Come on, come lie down with me for a bit. Then we’ll get some tea. It’s takeaway night, remember? My money’s on pizza.” He grinned, knowing Harry loved it too. The others had agreed already. “A nice healthy one for you, loads of green rubbish on it. Disgusting.” He reached down and held out his hand. “Come on. Come lie with me, young Harold. We’ll lock the door – keep out the rampant hordes.”

Harry smiled at that, loving the chance to spend alone time with Louis, away from the others. He nodded and took the offered hand, clambering to his feet. Together they walked upstairs to their room and locked the world outside.

With no ulterior motive (sex was totally out of the question, what with Harry being quite vocal in his appreciation of Louis’ mouth), the pair shrugged off their shoes and sweatshirts and climbed under the covers to snuggle, Louis telling stories of his sisters back home, making Harry smile and reach for his board on more than one occasion to ask questions. When the food arrived there was a bang on the door, Niall’s voice carrying through from the hallway.

“Lads! Your food’s outside the door. Eat it while it’s hot! I’ve left you some plates too – you don’t want melted cheese in your sheets.”

The sound of retreating feet faded and Louis untangled himself from Harry’s warm legs. Climbing over him, he jumped to the floor and unlocked the door, grabbing the boxes with their fragrant contents, several sheets of kitchen roll and a couple of plates from the floor, pushing the door shut again with his foot, flicking the lock.

“Niall is getting disturbingly domestic. Either he has hidden depths, or Mary and Rebecca have been training him. I approve either way.”

Laying the food on the duvet, he scrambled back beneath the covers and pulled the food towards them, handing Harry some kitchen paper as a bib and making him smile when he tucked it into his t-shirt like a mother hen. With a sigh, he flipped open the boxes and lifted a slice of heaven to his lips, taking a huge bite. Louis’ was a meat feast with extra cheese, his favourite, whereas Harry’s looked like an explosion in a garden centre, all leaves and weird shit that Louis didn’t recognise. He seemed to enjoy it though, shedding bits of sweetcorn when he bit into his first slice and looking guilty, belatedly reaching for a plate. They grinned at each other and set to some serious chowing down.

Harry gave up with two slices to go. Louis had cleared his and was wiping his mouth and fingers with kitchen paper when Harry’s pen squeaked on the board. He held it up under his chin, making big eyes worthy of Puss in Boots.

_Can I have a cup of tea? Pretty please?_

Louis laughed. “Your wish, my command. I’ll be back in a few minutes. You all done?” He pointed to the box. Harry nodded and Louis cleared away the boxes, taking them downstairs to find the others watching an old 80s action movie. It hit him just how few of them there were left, Rebecca, Cher and Matt the only remaining contestants apart from them. _Last band standing._  It was an achievement, no matter what happened on Saturday. After this weekend it would all be over, this crazy ride.

Raising an eyebrow, he headed to the quiet kitchen, making two cups of Yorkshire tea and carrying them back upstairs.

That night they stayed in their room, falling asleep early, hoping the new day would bring better news for Harry.

Saturday morning dawned with the green light from the medical team for Harry to attend rehearsals, so long as he continued vocal rest between performances. This was make or break; if they got into the final three on Saturday, they would be in the final for Sunday. It was exciting and terrifying, and the few of them that remained were preparing every waking minute whilst packing their belongings, the usual Saturday afternoon routine in case your time was up. This time no one would be unpacking, with the remaining contestants leaving Sunday night. The house was frantic, everyone chasing around trying to find lost items of clothing and makeup under beds and strewn throughout the house. The place was a tip, Harry thought, glad he didn’t have to be the one to deep clean it after they left. This must be how the Big Brother clean-up crew felt when everyone left. He’d done his bit with the kitchen, but he refused to scrub the place. It wasn’t his home, and it wasn’t his mess.

Crawling under their bed, Louis fished out stray pairs of pants and socks from where they had been kicked over the weeks. He was wearing one of Harry’s tops and when he looked at their half completed packing he noticed how many pieces had overlapped – his Adidas trackies in with Harry’s, several pairs of socks that he certainly didn’t own mixed in with his own laundry. He smiled, not caring. For ten weeks they’d shared a bed – sharing clothes was nothing to get concerned with. His hand found one last pair of socks that he, belatedly, remembered from their first night together as a couple. With a grimace, he threw them in the bin. Harry wasn’t taking those home for his mum to wash.

Harry bounced back into the room with a hoodie he’d lost weeks back that he’d found stuffed under a cushion. Niall had probably been sitting on it every night without realising.

 _“You got everything?”_ His pen squeaked on the wipe board while he looked at their opened cases haphazardly stuffed with clothes and shoes.  Louis shrugged.

“Think so. We’ll do the bathroom in the morning.”

Harry added the last of his clothes to the cases before scribbling again. _“We just need to keep something out to wear tomorrow. Unless these will do?”_ He looked down doubtfully at his hoodie that hadn’t been washed for a while. Louis grinned.

“I’ve got a couple of jumpers we can wear. It’s just for the day and for when we leave Sunday evening. Not long now, eh?”

Harry smiled, not his usual beacon of happiness, nerves coming to the fore.

“I think I’ll be glad when it’s over now to be honest.” He looked and sounded a little shaky, his rested voice a little rough from disuse.

“Come on, sit down. You shouldn’t be talking, remember. You’ll get in trouble.” He reached over and tapped the wipe board with his fingernails. “Now, I’ll go make some tea and you have a lie down and chill. Okay?” Pushing himself to his feet, he brushed Harry’s lips with his own, nuzzling his nose. To his surprise, Harry didn’t argue, plopping down on the mattress and curling up on his side, watching Louis leave the room. Running down the stairs, Louis yelled hello to Niall who was playing his guitar and doing nothing to help the clean-up effort.

“All packed, Nialler?”

Niall grinned.

“Lots of laundry and nothing clean to wear. Can’t be arsed to worry about either.”

Louis snorted and hummed a few bars of ‘She’s the One’ while he waited for the kettle. Niall set down his guitar and strolled over to stand with him, back to the worktop, looking unusually serious.

“How’s Harry? Is he gonna be okay for tonight? I know the others are worried.”

“He’ll be performing – he won’t miss singing with Robbie. Not to mention, we’ve got rehearsal with him in a couple of hours.  I’m buzzin’ about getting to meet him. We’d best get together before then, yeah? Where are Li and Z?”

Niall looked at him for a long moment.

“In Z’s room. I think they’re having the talk. They’ve been dancing around each other the whole time we’ve been here. Didn’t think anything’d happen to be honest, but now I don’t know. It all seems a bit delicate. I’m staying well clear.”

Louis stood silently, making tea in two big mugs, looking to Niall with a raised eyebrow.

“I know Z is keen on him, but Liam… well… he seems a bit skittish about the whole idea. I guess it’ll work itself out. Want tea?”

Niall shook his head. “Liam reckons he doesn’t know how he feels about it all, but I’ve caught him watching Zayn when he thinks he can get away with it. A lot of inner turmoil bubbling away inside that lad. Not like you and Harry. Meant to be, you two. You’d have to be blind not to see it. And don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. I shared with Aiden, remember? He was well into you. He worked out he was wasting his time pretty quick.”

Louis’ head dropped, his hand raking his hair.

“Haz is young though– he might change his mind. Let’s face it, I’m closer to nineteen than he is to seventeen. A bit of me worries about that. It’s too late for me though. I’m a goner, Nialler. It’s all over. That singing you hear in the distance is the fat bird.”

Niall grinned, wrapping an arm around his mate’s shoulders.

“You have nothing to worry about there. He looks at you like you hung the moon and the stars.” His eyebrows were in his hair, his head dipped to meet Louis’ eyes. “I should be so lucky as to find a girl to look at me like that.”

Louis coloured, feeling weird talking feelings with a lad he’d known for all of three months. Yet he had to admit that he felt as close to these boys as he did to the lads back home. Living and working together every day certainly accelerated friendship.

He nodded, meeting Niall’s reassuring smile. He was a good mate, Louis thought. He was lucky to have these boys.

“And there was me thinking I’d be the one dishing out sage advice as the oldest in the band.”

Niall clapped him on the back and wandered off to the lounge room, the chords to ‘She’s the One’ trickling out into the hallway.

Louis took the tea back to their room and smiled at Harry the minute he walked in. It was involuntary and he wouldn’t change it even if he could. Handing the mug to Harry, he watched him shuffle up the bed to sit back and drink it before sipping his own.

“Niall reckons Z and Li are having a big talk.” He pulled a face at Harry who widened his eyes in understanding. “No idea how it’s going or whether they’ll sort it out. As long as they can stay friends – I’d hate to see them fall out over it.” He sipped his scalding tea feeling nerves starting to build. “Guess we’ll know soon enough. Rehearsals start soon, and you can talk again.” Harry beamed, setting down his tea before leaning in to Louis, lips pursed like an adorable goldfish.

“Got bored of the board, eh?” Louis’ eyes flashed before setting down his own mug and diving onto Harry, kissing him until both were breathless and flushed. The knock at the door came as a shock and they sprang apart a second too late.

In the doorway stood Simon Cowell with a face like thunder.

“I was coming over to discuss today’s rehearsals before we meet Robbie. I can see I’m interrupting. Can I see you both downstairs please. Now.”

He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. As soon as he was out of sight, Niall was in the room, looking worried.

“What happened? He’s fucking furious.”

Louis swallowed hard, his throat dry as sandpaper.

“He fucking caught us, Nialler. Me and Haz – he walked in…”

Niall’s eyes were wide as dinner plates.

“Jesus, fuck, Lou. At least you were decent.”

Louis scraped a hand through his hair. “Bloody hell. You warned us – I should’ve been more careful, should’ve locked the bloody door. I could’ve said then that I didn’t want anyone to disturb Harry.” His stomach was on the floor, and one glance at Harry told him how he felt. He looked shell-shocked.

“He wants us downstairs right now." He rolled off the bed and waited for Harry to join him, both holding their tea as a makeshift shield before them, pitiful protection for walking into the firing line.

Simon sat on the balcony, steely faced, his jaw set. They pulled out chairs and set down their mugs, remembering not to touch each other. Harry set his board and pen down on the table. Simon didn’t look at them to begin with. His voice was cold.

“What I walked in on back there… I hope you have an explanation.”

“What would you like to hear?” Louis’ voice was sarcastic and he regretted it immediately.

Simon rounded on him in an instant.

“I want to hear that there is nothing going on, that there will _be_ nothing going on in the future. Your image is of five lads, free and single, that girls can believe they have a chance with. At this crucial juncture you are to _remain_ free and single until I tell you otherwise.”

Louis heard his own voice before he could begin to censor himself.

“Nothing wrong with mates though, is there? Harry’s my mate – my best mate. The other lads are my mates too.”

Harry stared at the table. Simon wasn’t done.

“Listen to me, both of you. Anything that may be going on here is to stop. Now. Do you understand? If you win this contest then your image is crucial and…”

“No.”

Harry’s voice was firm. He looked up and met Simon’s gaze head-on.

“I beg your pardon, Mr Styles?” Ice dripped from each syllable.

“Harry, don’t….” Louis tried, but Harry wasn’t to be stopped. Instead he reached down for Louis’ hand and grasped it tight.

“I said no. No, this won’t stop because we don’t want it to. We are together and we will remain together. We are adults and what we’re doing isn’t wrong. I won’t lie about this.”

His deep voice filled the space and Louis said nothing, holding tight to the hand in his own.

Simon’s glare could have frozen the melting icecaps. He stood up, looking down at them, steely eyes pinning them down like bugs under a microscope.

“This stops. _Now._ No arguments. This never happened and will not happen again.  Be at rehearsals promptly in an hour. You will act in a professional manner at all times. Mr Styles, I understand you are on vocal rest. Please refrain from speaking until then. You wouldn’t want to let your _mates_ down.”

With that he stormed out of the house, leaving them gazing at each other in defeat.

In Louis’ eyes, Harry was now ten feet tall.

“We need to tell the others. They need to know before rehearsal.” Harry nodded, silent again now. With leaden steps, they made their way to the lounge room to find Niall and fill him in before heading upstairs to Zayn’s room, praying Simon wasn’t there too.

They knocked and waited until Zayn mooched to the door and cracked it open, eyeing their pale faces in surprise.

“Can we come in?” Louis spoke for the three of them. Zayn nodded and opened the door wide enough for them to slip in before closing it. Liam looked up from the floor where he sat leaning against the wall, his arms around his knees.

“Has Simon been in to see you?”

They shook their heads in confusion. Louis told them what had happened, mindful of Harry’s vocal rest.

“He knows about Harry and me and he’s put his foot down. The band aren’t allowed girlfriends. Mind you, he never mentioned boyfriends, but he was mad as hell at catching us together.”

Liam’s eyebrows shot up in shock.

“Don’t worry, Li – we were fully clothed and decent. He caught us snogging.” Louis face was pink, realising that this was the first time they’d acknowledged their fledgling relationship to the others, confirming it. He sneaked a glance at Harry and saw the same high spots of pink in his cheeks, but he stood proud and unashamed, holding Louis’ hand. “I was just worried that he might have…”  He eyed them both and got no response. “But he didn’t so that’s good.” He shuffled his feet. “Rehearsals with Robbie in an hour. We need to be on his good side. I’m so sorry we’ve pissed him off – it wasn’t intentional, believe me. We’ll be on our best behaviour.” He sounded contrite, humiliated at being caught, at his own stupidity, and for endangering the future of the band.

“I won’t apologise for it though.” Harry’s deep voice was steady. “Sorry if that sounds harsh, but I won’t apologise for what’s happened between me and Louis.”

Zayn pulled him into a hug, clapping his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’m on your side. Li?”

Liam was on his feet and pulling both Louis and Harry into a four-way hug without hesitation. Niall joined in and the five of them stood in a huddle of solidarity and support.

Rehearsals went well overall, improving greatly when Simon ducked out to take a call and left the boys alone with one of the biggest names in the music industry who was as down to earth as it was possible to be. Louis was a touch star-struck and Harry watched him, loving the way he stumbled over his words, the way his eyes sparkled. They took on board his advice and agreed that this was going to be amazing. Soon their time was up and, with Robbie’s words of wisdom and encouragement ringing in their ears, set off to get washed and have a bite to eat before heading off to makeup and wardrobe.

There was everything to play for.

~xXx~

Standing under the spotlights, Louis was so giddy he thought he might burst into flames at any moment. Getting to introduce Robbie Williams to the stage was surreal, and their smiles were so wide they hurt when the legend walked on to share the stage with them. The song was over in a flash, and hearing Robbie Williams sing their praises made their hearts burst with pride. Walking offstage, they all shook his hand before hugging each other half to death.

Their first song had gone well, but all of them had been desperate to get to their collaboration piece. A short time later they stood clumped together backstage, waiting for their entrance. Simon’s face was dark, and not just from the layer of thick foundation he was wearing for the lights, but he pulled off a smile for the cameras. Only Louis knew how tight the hand was that gripped his shoulder. Tight enough to bruise, but he was damned if he’d let Harry take the blame for something that he’d started.  He held his smile, refusing to be cowed. When the presenter announced they were staying, they leapt all over the stage, hugging each other in near hysteria. Harry and Louis didn’t even try to avoid each other, their happiness a joy to behold.

_There were in the final!_

Leaving the stage at the end of the show, they congratulated Matt and Rebecca before running over to Cher to commiserate. It was the worst time to leave, the night before the final, and they felt bad for her. They had to stay for the obligatory post show interviews before they were finally able to leave and find their families. Harry spotted his mum and ran over to her, enveloping her in a huge hug. Louis watched, knowing how lost Harry had been at the start, missing home and familiarity. He had come a long way, but the bond he had with his mother was fiercely strong. Hearing his name, he spun and saw his own mum waving to him, and he met her halfway, giving her a huge hug, one eye still on Harry – always watching out for Harry.

“Where are the girls?” He looked round for them.

“They’re at home, love. They wanted to come, of course they did, but I couldn’t bring them. After tomorrow though you’ll be able to see them. They are so proud of you, love, as am I. You’re doing so well, all of you – I’m so excited for tomorrow! So tell me, what’s Robbie like in person? I know how much you respect that man…”

She was still talking when Louis saw Harry approaching with his mum, Anne, in tow. He saw Harry chewing his lower lip and he tried hard to maintain his composure and not react to the stimulus when their eyes met, their smiles instant, soft looks so intimate it was a wonder the rest of the world wasn’t pointing fingers and whispering about the two pretty boys in love. As it was, they tried to contain their expressions when their mothers finally met for the first time.

He saw Harry’s mum smile and hold out her hand.

“Hi, I’m Anne, Harry’s mum.”

Johanna had shook the offered hand with a big smile. “Johanna. Lovely to meet you at last, Anne. Louis doesn’t stop talking about Harry so I reckon we’re going to be spending a fair bit of time together in the future, don’t you?”

Anne laughed in agreement, and here it was. The moment both boys had known was coming. Harry slipped his hand into Louis’ and turned to his mum. He blushed before stammering out the words he had practiced in his head. “Mum, you remember Louis. Uhhm… Mum, he’s important.”

Louis looked at Johanna then, his hand firm in Harry’s, his tongue feeling too big for his mouth.  “So, yeah, uhmm… Mum, Harry and me, we’re uhmm…together.”

Mothers missed nothing, both sets of eyes were already fixed on their clasped hands, their flushed cheeks and bright eyes. Anne held out her free hand to Louis, pulling them both into a hug.

“Lovely to see you again, Louis.” Anne’s smile was warm and genuine.

Johanna was next to pull the boys into a hug. “Hi again, Harry.” Johanna and Anne’s eyes met, their eyebrows raised, both asking the same silent question: _Did you know?_ Resulting in simultaneous subtle head shakes. Both were 100% behind their sons, and now their sons’ partners. There was never a choice to be made. Both women trusted their boys to make good decisions. They also weren’t blind to the way the two boys looked at each other.

Harry and Louis were a done deal.

As their parents weren’t allowed to accompany them, the five of them were left alone while they waited for the cars, their grins vibrant.

“Lads – what are we doing for our last night in the house?” Louis clapped his hands together. They quickly realised that they couldn’t exactly party – only Louis was old enough to drink – and a rousing session of karaoke wasn’t a good idea with more performances the next day. They settled on a game of Never Have I Ever, the result of which was embarrassment, mockery, and no small amount of sexual tension. A huge takeaway buffet was delivered to the house to celebrate, and the seven of them stuffed their faces until they could barely move without groaning, Niall trying unsuccessfully to persuade Rebecca to rub his belly.

Louis thought he saw Zayn entwine his fingers with Liam’s, two high spots of pink in Liam’s cheeks when he was caught in Zayn’s dark eyes. They disappeared with a nonchalant ‘night all’. Looked like they were on the same page at last.

Tomorrow was going to be tense, but for tonight they were united.

Simon hadn’t come to the house that night, but they expected him the next morning to give them their final pep talk before they made their way to the studios for the last time. Louis was determined to hold his tongue and not inflame the delicate situation and hoped that the day could pass without further incident. If it all went wrong, then Simon would have no use for them and…. And maybe he and Harry could be together without recrimination.  He shook his head. He didn’t want to think about it.

When they finally headed to bed, it was with a sadness they hadn’t expected. The big house had been home for ten weeks, and they had enjoyed its luxury and the freedom. For the lads it was their first experience of living away from home and while they had missed it, their families and friends, they all felt they had grown as men. Now they wanted to grow as musicians too, and winning the competition was all they could focus on. One more round of rehearsals ahead of tomorrow night’s final and then… who knew?

Harry broke through Louis’ contemplative mood when the pair of them were getting into bed.

“I guess that after tonight we’ll be sleeping alone again.” His voice was flat and dull, pain etched deep into the words.

Louis turned to him, seeing the unbearable sadness in those expressive eyes that tugged at his soul. Leaning over him, he nudged his nose to Harry’s. “Maybe we will, but it won’t be for long, you know that. We’ll get our own place, just ours. The biggest hurdle is out of the way. Our mums know now. Mine was okay with it. How was yours?”

Harry rubbed his eyes. “She likes you, don’t worry. I can tell. I haven’t talked to her about moving out yet though. I guess if we win tomorrow then it’s a given that we’ll be moving to London anyway.”

He voice was slower than usual, its hypnotic, trancelike quality weaving its magic on Louis. He nodded in agreement, marvelling at watching Harry’s luscious mouth form words. When he spoke, his own voice sounded distant.

“Wanted to kiss you all night, Haz.”

Those lips curved, the dimples popped, and Louis lost the will to resist any farther. Falling into the abyss, he allowed the kiss to consume him, every piece of him screaming for Harry, Harry, Harry…

Hands strayed, hips began their age-old rhythm, grinding and writhing into each other, kisses frantic and noisy, panting into each other’s mouths until their movements became uncoordinated and jerky. So close now, both riding high, Harry’s head fell back, exposing his neck to Louis who wanted to mark it but knew he couldn’t. Burying his face in the soft skin, he bit down softly, a desperate mewl escaping Harry’s lips that flipped the switch. With a helpless gasp, he came between their stomachs, his body shuddering and hitching with ecstasy. His whispered words coiled like smoke into Harry’s ear.

“Love you, Haz.”

Harry’s body convulsed beneath him, breathless whimpers torn from his lungs in response.

“Love you, Lou.”

~xXx~

Final rehearsals were well underway, and the boys were performing the very first song they had sung as a band. That last performance was an emotional one and they gave it their all. Leaving the stage, they knew they had done all they could.

However, when they were called back to the stage for the results, there was to be no fairytale ending. When their names were read out as the contestants finishing in third place, they couldn’t hold their upset in check. Niall had his head in his hands and Louis walked over to him, an arm around a crying Harry, and wrapped his other arm round Niall’s slim shoulders, feeling the pain just as sharply. They huddled together, Harry snugging in close to Louis away from the cameras to hide his face. They all felt the same sense of crushing disappointment, Louis and Harry each harbouring fears that their relationship had somehow been responsible. They hadn’t been discreet with the cameras, always play flirting for the internet footage, assuming no one would take them seriously because they all played around like the jokers they were.  Zayn and Liam had their heads together, deep in conversation and nodding, far enough away to not be heard over the cheers of support from the crowd. When the presenter came to talk to them, Simon loomed close, his face unreadable when Zayn winked to camera and told the world they hadn’t seen the last of One Direction. With cheers of support echoing in their ears, they were led off stage and out of the competition.

Backstage they watched the rest of the show, ready to congratulate and commiserate with the final two acts once it was all over. Matt was crowned the winner over Rebecca, and finally they just had their short piece for the after show to endure before they could leave. This left them in a quandary – they had no idea what was to happen next until the production team told them they were being taken to Simon’s dressing room after the show went off air for a quick chat. They had no idea what lay ahead, what Simon wanted to talk about, but they sure as hell hoped it was good news. None of them could pool together enough spare change to pay for a room in London if they walked away from this as failures.

Numb with nerves, they were all led to Simon’s dressing room once the show wrapped, all on edge and barely able to meet each other’s eyes for fear of what lay ahead.

“Come on in, boys.”

They trooped in, quiet and nervous, unrecognisable from the rowdy rabble they so usually were. Liam looked strong, mentally able to take bad news better than the others who were all so new. He steeled himself, watching Niall and Harry with a worried frown.

“I’ll keep this brief. You guys did well tonight. I want to sign you to my label tomorrow. I’ll send a car to pick you up in the morning after you’ve all had a good night’s sleep. My assistant has arranged a suite for you all for the next few days until we can get you sorted with your own rooms, single or shared. Bottom line, guys – you’re not going home for quite some time. I intend to turn you into a household name by this time next year, with an album to promote. Who knows where you will go after that. Are we all in agreement?”

What did they know? A group of lads, most of whom were barely seventeen years old, with no head for business?

Harry collapsed into tears, his face pink and puffy, and Louis didn’t hesitate to pull him into a tight hug, rocking him against his own body. Simon eyed them, seeing a potential problem on the horizon. Niall was teary too, hugging Liam and Zayn, all of them shocked to the core.

“The cars are out front waiting for you. Your bags have been collected from the house and will be in the room when you arrive. There is a laundry service that you can use – I suspect there may be a lot.” His smile was wry. The lads all half laughed through snuffled tears and thanked him, all talking at once now.

“Oh guys? The cars will collect you in the morning at 11.00. Be ready. I’ll see you then. And no talking to anyone else about this. Not until I say so.”

And with that they were dismissed.

Filing outside to their cars, Harry saw his mum and ran to hug her. She looked at his tearstained face and hugged him tight, thinking him distraught.

“Oh love, I’m so sorry. I was so hoping you boys would win. Don’t be upset, there will be more opportunities out there for you.”

Harry sniffed, wiping his face and shaking his head at the same time, looking back over his shoulder for Louis who was, of course, hovering close by.

“I can’t tell you anything now, Mum, but I’ll call you tomorrow? Promise? What time are you leaving?”

She looked concerned, tilting his face to hers to smooth back his unruly hair.

“I’m on the early train, love. I should be home around midday. Aren’t you coming back with me?”

He shook his face, eyes wet and wide.

“Not allowed to talk about it yet, but I’ll call you as soon as I can, I promise. I’ll be okay – I’ll be with the lads.”

Anne looked at Louis standing at his side and spoke softly.

“Take good care of him for me, you hear?”

Louis nodded, mouthing _I promise._

Harry didn’t see who she was speaking to, but his mum’s face relaxed and she nodded, kissing him on the cheeks and forehead like she had when he was little. One last hug and Harry was swept away with the others into the cars and onward to their uncertain futures. He wondered when he would get to see his Mum again. Louis’ arm was around his shoulders and Harry leaned into him, grateful that he understood and seemed to read his mind.

~xXx~

The hotel suite was luxurious, with enough beds for the five of them, one double in the main bedroom. Without argument the others let Harry and Louis take the double, and soon they were snuggled up like puppies, sleeping off the stress of the long day.

Niall was on the verge of sleep when he heard muttering coming from the master bedroom. It sounded nonsensical, only the one voice at first, until he heard a low shushing. Not sure what the hell was going on or what he would find, he threw back the covers and made his way through the dimly illuminated room, the yellow glow from the street lighting filtering through the drapes. Stopping at the open door, he called out in a loud whisper.

“Everything okay, lads?”

He heard an in-breath and paused. Then Louis’ voice, low and sleepy, found his ears.

“’S’okay, Nialler. Harry’s just sleep talking. He’ll settle again in a minute. Sorry to wake you.”

Niall smiled in the darkness, warm affection for the younger lad washing over him.

“It’s been a big day. He’s just processing it. Night, Tommo.”

“G’night, Nialler.” Niall could hear the warmth in Louis’ voice and knew without seeing it for himself that Louis had Harry wrapped in his arms.

Hearing the room fall silent, Louis nuzzled Harry’s neck, pressed a kiss under his jaw, nudging his nose up and down the length of his soft neck. Harry uttered the quietest moan and fell quiet in his arms, relaxing back into sleep. Louis stroked his hair for a moment or two before snuggling in tight, sleep claiming him in seconds.

The next morning found everyone surly and short tempered. They dressed in whatever clean clothes they could dredge up amongst them before filing downstairs to the waiting car. The journey was blessedly short, and they were shown into the Sony offices to meet with Simon on his home turf. Louis felt queasy, wanting so badly to hold Harry’s hand and having to content himself with brushing their arms and shoulders. Then they heard his cold voice calling them into a huge office, the walls covered with gold and platinum discs.

“Sit down, boys.”

They sat, still not speaking, eyes fixed on the man who would make or break them.

“So – we didn’t win.” Their hearts sank to their shoes. “This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. “I want to market you. You’ll be on the tour as you know, and when that’s over we’ll start working on songs for you, working you with vocal coaches and writers to match songs to your ranges.”

They all looked at each other, nervous and excited.

“So I have contracts ready…”

~xXx~

Life changed for the boys after that day.

The finalists were all headlining the X factor tour, so daytimes were filled with rehearsals like they had had when they were at the live shows. They now had their own hotel rooms, although Harry and Louis had insisted on sharing.

Their relationship had deepened and both now wanted more. It was in their room after the first show of the tour that Harry asked Louis outright the one thing they’d not yet discussed.

“Lou – I want us to have proper sex. I don’t want to wait any longer.” His teeth worried his lip, unsure how Louis felt about it. Was it too soon? No – they’d been together for ages now.

Stunned for a moment, Louis managed to answer.

“Haz, are you sure?”

Harry nodded, mutely.

“Do you know which you want to be? This is new for both of us.”

Harry went pink. “I want to bottom. I looked up how to go about it on the internet.  As long as we go slow and get me ready first, it should be all good. I really want to.”

Louis swallowed hard, his tongue feeling far too big for his mouth again.

“Don’t we need supplies and stuff…” His hand was in his hair while he thought. “Condoms, some sort of lube?”

“I’ve got them.” Louis shouldn’t have been shocked, yet his eyebrows were in his hair.

“When? When did you sneak out to a chemist?”

Harry grinned. “I needed something for my throat, so I bought condoms while I was there. It was pretty terrifying.”

“Just condoms?”

“No – I found some basic lube too. I guess the woman who served me thought I was a chronic masturbator or something.” He giggled. “She didn’t look me in the eye the whole time. Hopefully that means she didn’t recognise me. I had my hat on though.”

Louis shook his head, his eyes wide. “You are definitely a sneaky one. So when did you want to do this?” He suddenly felt very nervous.

“I thought that if I went and took a hot shower and got all clean we could try it now? If _you_ want to of course. Do you?”

He suddenly deflated, worried he had gone too far.

“Let’s see. Do I want to deflower my gorgeous, sexy boyfriend? Hmm, tricky. Is there any reason you aren’t already in the shower?” His grin sent Harry running to the bathroom, giggling. When he returned, all polished and squeaky clean, clutching a clean towel, it was he who felt nervous. He checked the door to their room was locked, and their blinds closed. No distractions.

“So I learned what to do. We need to get me relaxed, and then go really slow, with lots of lube.”

Louis pulled him close and kissed those puffy pink lips. “As slow as you need, Haz. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Harry’s bright smile set his heart on fire.

“You could never hurt me.”

They knelt on the bed, Louis throwing away Harry’s wet towel and placing the dry one on the covers. Seeing Harry lying there, completely naked and glorious, he allowed his eyes to feast before shedding his own clothes onto the floor. For once, Harry said nothing about his messiness. Joining Harry on the bed, he sprawled next to him, pulling him into a tight hug, a leg thrown over Harry’s. Nudging his nose in an Eskimo kiss, he watched Harry’s face bloom into a beautiful smile that he then captured with his lips, the low answering moan sending fire to his groin. His hands slid down the length of Harry’s back, smoothing over and cupping his arse. Harry snuggled closer, deepening the kiss now, his tongue reaching for Louis’, wanting to dance. He could feel Harry’s arousal against his stomach, knew that he would likely come before they were done. Releasing his lips for an instant, he was able to murmur under his breath:

“Want to come first before we start? Let me get you all soft and loose.”

He grazed Harry’s cock with his hand, kissing his nose while he waited. The soft whimper in response told him what he needed to know, and he wrapped his hand around his shaft, squeezing and tugging in a rhythm he knew would get Harry very hot and bothered. Already close to the brink at the thought of having Louis inside him, Harry bucked into the warm, tight grip and with little effort was soon pulsing and spilling all over his hand and stomach. His heavy sigh of pleasure combined with his flushed, dopey smile made Louis want him more than ever.

He brushed stray curls out of Harry’s face, watching him come back down. Refusing to touch himself, he caressed and stroked everywhere he could reach, allowing his finger tips to flutter into Harry’s crease, earning him a gasp each time he neared his goal.  Harry pulled him down into a desperate kiss, his cock already filling again at the teasing stimulation. His skin was still flushed pink with pleasure and Louis used his palms to caress him, the different sensations awakening his body anew.

Harry’s hands were on his hips, stroking over his arse in a mirror action that Louis loved, before slipping up to his ribs, his thumbs circling his nipples. Louis’ cock was so hard that he feared he would have to stop and calm down rather than risk disappointing Harry. Feeling Harry buck into him again, he opened his eyes and gazed into Harry’s darkened depths.

“I think we should start getting me ready, Lou.” He reached backward to the bedside table and handed Louis the tube of lube. Are you okay to do it?”

Louis nodded, his eyes glazed, mouth open with lust. With fingers that wouldn’t obey, he got the cap off of the tube and removed the seal. Attempting to squirt some onto his fingers, he ended up with rather more than he needed. Harry giggled, lightening the moment. Coating his fingers, he took a deep breath and reached between Harry’s legs, slipping his fingers along the crease until he found his entrance. Harry bent his knees to open himself up to Louis, gasping at the unfamiliar feeling of the cool lube.

“Here we go.”

Louis slipped one fingertip through the tight outer rim, feeling Harry’s body clench down hard. Leaning over, he kissed him, slow and deep, feeling his body respond and relax until his finger slipped all the way in up to the knuckle. Harry’s eyes were wide, but when Louis moved his finger inside, his eyes almost popped out of his head.

“Ohh ohhhhh! That feels so strange.”

“Good strange or bad strange?” Louis circled his finger feeling Harry’s stomach flinch and jerk.

“Good. Definitely good.” His mouth opened and closed with each movement of his finger.

Kissing him again was also a definitely good idea, and it helped distract him a little while he got him used to the idea of more, pressing his second finger against the muscle, massaging around it in a gentle rhythm to make him feel good before he could edge it inside, just a little bit at first, until he finally had two inside him, both rotating and gently scissoring. Harry’s cock was leaking again, his mouth opening and closing, his hips beginning to grind.

“We’re going to need another one, love. Breathe out and relax – you’re doing so well.”

Harry groaned when Louis began to scissor him wider, trying to persuade his tight body to open even further until, at last, another finger inched inside. He was now so full that he was seeing stars behind his eyes and desperate to have Louis inside him.

His speech was becoming garbled, his breathing harsh and laboured.

“Please, Louis… please… do it… Louis… need you…”

Gently pulling his fingers out, he wiped off the lube on the towel before opening a condom and, after a fumble, managed to get it on himself, adding more lube from the already depleted tube. He was taking no chances.

“Roll onto your back, love. Raise your knees and keep your breathing steady. You ready?”

Harry bit his lip, his face flushed with roses, and nodded, the movement erratic.

“Okay.” Louis lined himself up and pressed forward, feeling the head of his cock breach Harry, gripping him tighter than his hand ever had. “Oh _god._ ”

Harry urged him on, hissing when the burn hit him, his hands gripping Louis’ biceps. A little more… a little more… His eyes were round as dinner plates when he realised that he had all of Louis inside him. Looking into his eyes, he saw the delicate grip Louis had on his self-control, knew that Louis was so ready that this wouldn’t take long.

“ _Fuuck.”_

Louis pulled back a fraction and slipped back inside, getting used to the rocking motion needed to make this work. Harry mewled, needing more now. Louis withdrew further, sliding back into Harry’s tight body with more force and, seeing how dark his eyes became, knew he was clearly on the right track. Setting himself up with a gentle rhythm, he thrust into Harry’s willing body, building in confidence, letting him guide his movements until he was sure he would die from the pleasure. Everything was tight, velvet heat, Harry’s hands on his thighs in encouragement. He changed angle a fraction when his knee slipped on the sheet, and Harry’s eyes glazed, his mouth a perfect ‘o’.

“Was that good, love?” He tried to emulate it and Harry’s stomach muscles trembled in response, the only noise now leaving his mouth a succession of ‘ _oh oh ohhhhh, Louis!’_ until he went rigid beneath him, his cock spurting come over his chest and neck.

His pulsing body gripped Louis, dragging him over the edge, a loud _‘fuck!’_ escaping him before he pumped everything he had into Harry in an orgasm that seemed to go on forever. When it finally ended, he all but slumped on top of Harry, mindful that he was still inside him. When his own body stopped twitching and jumping, he reached down and gently pulled out, watching Harry’s exhausted body relax and deflate like a pricked balloon. Condom disposed of, he pulled out the towel they were laying on and cleaned Harry down before pulling him into a snuggly embrace.

“So, was it what you thought it was going to be?”  Louis’ finger traced Harry’s cheekbone. Harry nodded, flushed, tired and happy.

“I’m going to feel weird tomorrow – it feels like you’re still in me – but that was amazing. I knew it would be.” His grin was mischievous.

“So you’re saying we’ll be doing that again then.” He raised an enquiring eyebrow before Harry rolled on top of him, kissing him all over his face until they were giggling, wrapped up in each other, nose to nose. Pulling the duvet up over them, Louis made sure Harry was curled into his arms before drifting off to sleep.

 

~xXx~

Harry stood spellbound, hypnotised by the myriad of leaves twirling and swooping outside the window of their Cheshire home. His face was alight with wonder at nature’s spectacle. Louis felt his face warm with affection, his head on one side, watching his love so absorbed, enthralled, and was struck with an inexplicable need to see him with leaves tangled in his long curls, at one with the season. Walking up behind him, his arms slid around Harry’s waist, reaching up on the balls of his feet to rest his chin on the tall shoulder, inhaling the soft, musky scent of his skin, the clean smell of his hair. Harry relaxed into his embrace, resting his head against Louis’ temple before turning to nuzzle his hair and press a kiss to the warm skin that never failed to send a jolt through Louis.

“Let’s go out for a walk.”

Harry’s eyes lit up at the idea, his wide smile crinkling his sparkling eyes.

“The woods! Let’s go run through the leaves and hunt for conkers!”

Louis laughed, squeezing him tighter.

“I think the local kids have already stripped the words clean of those, babe, but you never know. We can look.” Pulling back, he turned to face him, a grin spread across his face. “You just want to even the score! Don’t think I’ve forgotten, Curly – last year I beat you four games to three, and you want to get even!”

Harry’s eyes were round and innocent – to an onlooker, even a little hurt. To Louis he looked guilty as hell. To do Harry credit, he managed to hold the look for a good couple of seconds before cracking like an egg.

“Lou…” he whined, “you know I hate to lose and fair’s fair. I deserve the chance to beat you. If you loved me…”

Louis burst out laughing at the blatant attempt at manipulation.

“Come on, let’s go - I have a record to maintain. The Tomlinson honour is at stake here!”

They chased each other to where their sturdy outdoor boots resided beneath the stairs, winding scarves around each other’s necks and kissing like the giggly teenagers they were such a short time ago. Opening the door, they were hit by the scent of autumn, crisp, damp air and wet leaves underfoot. Squinting in the low sun, they locked the door and headed off across their rounds to the woods that bordered the property. Gusts of playful wind buffeted them, winding its fingers into Harry’s long hair, and he reached back to tuck it into his collar, even though Louis ached to set it free. The woods were bright with dappled light streaming through the near naked branches, spotlighting patches of their path as they walked, crunching twigs and dry leaves underfoot.

True alone time, those all too brief periods of togetherness were rare jewels of privacy in a world that had hounded them for the past four years, day and night, a demon that dogged their tracks, forever sniffing at their heels. Their home in Cheshire was their safe place, their haven that sadly they so rarely got to visit these days, forced to spend more and more time apart in LA, New York and London due to deliberate management scheduling.

Harry smiled, looking up at the old trees like old friends.

“It’s beautiful here. I wish we got to come more often.” Harry’s arm snaked around his waist, feeling Louis’ in the same moment. _So in sync._ “It’s so quiet, just the birds and the wind. Hey look – there’s our tree.”

He grinned and together they walked over to the big oak tree that bore their initials on its trunk. Harry’s fingers traced the shallow letters with a fond smile. Neither had wanted to hurt the majestic tree and so they had only marked their names on the surface of a smooth piece of bark near the roots, not cutting deep. Harry released Louis for a moment and wrapped his arms around the trunk, feeling a moment of peace and oneness. Patting it, he looked at Louis.

“Did you know that an oak tree doesn’t produce acorns until it’s at least forty years old? This one has been producing them my whole life so it’s pretty special.” He stepped back and pulled Louis close again. “I hope it’s still here long after I’m gone.”

Louis watched him with a lump in his throat.

“Don’t talk like that, Haz.”

Harry looked surprised before he understood what Louis was referring to.

“Oh, Lou – I just mean I’d love this old tree to be here for another hundred years. It’s beautiful. I doubt I’ll make it to 121, however well I eat.”

Louis nuzzled his neck.

“I just don’t want to think of a world without you in it, that’s all.”

Harry’s hand stroked Louis’ cheek, surprised at how serious their conversation had gotten.

“Lou? Are you okay?”

Louis sighed.

“Management want to see us tomorrow, and you know what that probably means. Tis the season, after all. Time for our winter girlfriends to sign onto the payroll.” His face was pinched. “I wish we could just refuse. I hate wasting precious time being away from you, the lies, and the pretence of it all. I just want to be with you.”

Harry swallowed hard, the future still holding so many stumbling blocks on the way to their happy future. The price they had to pay to be free, to be together finally. Harry shook his head, his eyes desperate and sad.

“Maybe this year they’ll listen to us? The others hate it as much as we do. Li and Z hardly get to see each other either, what with their long term ‘relationships’ turning serious as far as the public are concerned. And last year… god, Lou… I can’t bear seeing you like that again. You lost too much weight. Promise me you’ll look after yourself this time if it happens again? I wanted so damn much to just get on a plane and come home. It broke my heart.”

His voice cracked, brow furrowed, remembering his misery at feeling so helpless, and drew Louis into his arms, trying to protect them both from the memory of the pain they had both endured at the hands of management, determined to use their public personas to maximum advantage for promotional purposes. It didn’t matter that their albums would sell anyway – scandal seemed to be desirable to keep them current, no matter how well written their music was, and that simple disrespect drove the band crazy.

The previous year had meant Harry spending weeks at a time alone at their LA home, while Louis was paraded around festivals and on pap outings looking every inch as uncomfortable as he had felt. Not one to hide his feelings well, Louis had refused to fake romance, holding hands only when forced, kissing only when snarled at to obey. Yet still it worked. The press loved it when he glared at the cameras, clearly angry at being interrupted during his ‘romantic liaisons’. They rejoiced at printing every juicy moment of his romances, speculating to the nth degree about what was happening and how serious it was getting, loving to rile up the fans with his latest conquest and making the fandom implode. They failed to pick up on the desperation in his expression, or perhaps refused to see the vacant eyes that accompanied the forced smiles, the dark shadows beneath his eyes that meant he wasn’t sleeping properly, missing Harry so much he could hardly breathe.

During this time Harry was exiled to LA where he met up with friends, male and female, and endured the speculation about his dating habits, being linked to both sexes just heightened the scandals linked to his name. The Harry Styles brand was a womaniser that romanced older women, cougars, who loved young, fresh meat. The fact that they also got to write about their ‘conquests’ in their books bewildered Harry at first, hurt beyond words by the sheer audacity of the lies he read in print. His mum and sister hated it so much that when a bad story hit the papers just in time for a new song release, they made a point of tweeting ambiguous messages designed to throw shade on the whole story. He adored them for it, worrying that their management would at any point haul them over the coals for it. His family knew the truth, of course they did, as did Louis’ mum and eldest sisters, but having to read lurid stories about them in the press was the worst part of fame, seeing their sons’ reputations being dragged through the mud for the sake of money.

At times they all wondered if it was worth it.

Harry enjoyed LA, loved the pace of life, the opportunities it afforded him, the shopping… The one thing he could control was what he wore, and so he used the time there to reinvent himself. Gucci, McQueen and Saint Laurent were his favourites among the many labels he favoured, finding his own unique style with a mix of shapes and cuts, not afraid to venture into the women’s section when his jeans weren’t tight enough, when the shirts he preferred didn’t come in the colours he desired, when the men’s designs just didn’t speak to him in the way he needed. He had no fear of wearing whatever caught his eye and the press never failed to mention his clothes whenever he was spotted at an airport, at an exclusive party, or leaving it for that matter, bumping into fans on the street in New York or downtown LA. They saw the Harry Styles brand, the star always on fan service duty, always with a smile and a kind word, no matter how provoked. What the press didn’t see, nor care about, was the loneliness in his big smiles for the cameras, the yearning for the one thing he couldn’t have, the one thing their lifestyle refused to legitimately provide.

 _Louis_.

While Louis himself suffered during his own longstanding fake relationship, it was nothing to how he felt seeing Harry linked to famous women. He had to sit back and watch it all unfold in the tabloid press, every sordid snippet of their ‘trysts’ laid out in lurid detail, watching his love holding hands with some celeb out for mutual promo. Harry always rang him when he was alone in his room, anxious to make sure he was okay, to reassure him over and over that he loved him and missed him so much. 

At times Louis just couldn’t hold it all in, letting it leak out in interviews, earning him worried looks from Liam, the band’s peacekeeper. He loathed being asked questions about how Harry’s relationships were going, vultures wanting soundbites and gossip on something so fake it was laughable. These ‘slips’ always seemed to make it into the interviews when they could have been edited out and he wondered just how blind journalists were. It made him sick to his stomach to be expected to lie and he chose his words carefully, being ambiguous where possible. He would not lie and say his partner was happy in his ‘relationship’ with whomever, and it infuriated him that the paps always seemed to single him out when it was about Harry, rather than ask Liam, Zayn or Niall.

He often wondered if they liked to poke at him to provoke a reaction, to make fun of the Larry Stylinson speculation that had arisen so early on in the fandom. The pair of them would staunchly refuse to answer questions about that, and only when forced would Louis address it. Harry didn’t trust himself to speak and so Louis was their spokesperson, doing his best to deflect the rumours without actually saying the words ‘it’s not true’. He spun the interviewers in circles with his words, neither confirming nor denying the rumours, yet when they went to print the result always read as a flat denial, pointing to the fans for being delusional for believing in something so ridiculous.

Secretly, the boys thought their fans were anything but. They had put all the pieces together in the band’s early days, and refused to be deflected by management’s underhand tactics.

During these separations Louis would at times go MIA. The fans would speculate, he would be papped at an airport without bags, ostensibly to attend an event or party, and then after the usual pictures were splashed across the world’s media, he would disappear. Just for a while he would vanish from media attention and so would his ‘girlfriend’, leading to press speculation that the two of them had sneaked away for some private time, perhaps to visit his parents and to further increase mentions of how ‘serious’ the relationship had grown.

The truth? The truth was that Louis would attend the party for an hour or two and then his car would appear at the door to whisk him away before anyone noticed he was gone. When he arrived at the door to their home he would be dishevelled and a little jetlagged, but overwhelmingly happy to be with Harry again. No one could understand how being separated made them feel. For Harry, it was to have half of himself missing, feeling so alone and incomplete, no matter how confident and relaxed he appeared outwardly. He had perfected the act of let’s pretend in a way Louis never could. For Louis, being with Harry was coming home, no matter where they were. If they were together, it felt like home. Twin souls, drawn together to form a sacred whole.

~xXx~

And now here they were, after just a few precious days in hiding, sitting in front of their management team once again, waiting for the hammer the fall. The rest of the boys were absent. Nothing pointed to this meeting going well.

Hearing their abhorrent plan made Harry want to heave to the bottom of his stomach. Uncaring of what they might think or do, the pair held hands, offering silent support in unity while they listened to the travesty being put forward as the next stage in their futures.

“So you want us to just rock up to a press conference and be all like: _‘Sorry we lied, but you were kind of right?’_ ” Louis’ fury was palpable in the room and there was no blood in Harry’s fingers where they were interlaced with Louis’. “You want us to lie about a _lie_? How fucked up is that?”

Management mumbled angrily at his outburst, but all Louis could see was more lies, more waiting, more pain.

Harry was white, and Louis was afraid he would vomit. They had known something was coming, but nothing could have prepared them for this. A small part of them had hoped it would soon be over, that this meeting would be where they would finally be told the end date for it all.

_This is never going to be over._

The words whirled in Harry’s mind, the outside world spun, and he shakily stood and made his way to the bathroom to vomit in private. Ignoring the bigwigs, Louis followed him, always making sure his boy was okay. He found Harry on his knees, retching, his hands shaking while he held back his hair. Louis smoothed every strand out of the way and rubbed his back until it was over, Harry collapsing to the tile, wiping his mouth. When he could speak, his voice was rough and croaky.

“If we do this, if we tell this lie, we can’t come back from it, Lou. We’ll be saying it happened when we were young and stupid, and then thought better of it. How could we then say we’ve been together all along?” Tears trickled down the sides of his face and he angrily wiped them away with his fists.

“I don’t know, love. This is fucked up. They dream up these schemes, but the fuckers don’t have to live them – _we_ do.” He blew back his fringe, his arm around Harry’s shoulders. “If only the world could see us now, eh? Biggest names in the pop industry sitting on a cold tiled floor, chucking up because of the next set of bullshit their fans are about to get drip-fed to them over the coming months. All to sell records. Why can’t the music just be enough?” He sighed and hugged Harry closer. “I wish the lads were here. Naturally they weren’t invited as it’s just our lives the puppet masters want to fuck with.”

Harry nodded. Louis kissed his temple.

“Come on, love. Let’s get you cleaned up and get back in there. We have a defence to present to the court. I’ll do the talking, okay?”

Harry nodded, gratefully, and Louis pulled him to his feet, unlocking the stall door and leading him to the sinks to rinse his mouth and wash his face. There was no hiding the obvious, and Louis was perversely pleased about that. There’d been enough fake in their lives already.

Walking back into the room, hand in hand, they sat back down and Louis glared across the desk.

“Here’s how it’s going to go, gents…”

They refused outright to go along with the scheme, having foregone so much lost time pretending they were friends, so much lost time sneaking around into each other’s hotel rooms just to be alone, just to be close, needing the touch, the smell of each other for comfort and stability. This final lie was one too many – one too many PR schemes that dented their reputations, scarred and sullied their love for one another. The final insult was to brush it under the carpet as a fling, as nothing more than ‘young love’, telling the world ‘it could never have lasted’, ‘so much temptation – someone had to have strayed.’ Enter any number of stunt players to fuel that poisonous narrative, to lend credibility to a vicious lie that would achieve what exactly? How would this make the fans feel? How would it increase album sales, or ticket sales for the tour?

Louis sat back, glancing across at Harry’s white face, gripping his hand to keep him present in the room.

“So unless you can come up with an alternative plan to the cock and balls story you were planning, I suggest you start planning a story that will lead to us coming out.” He flicked his hair out of his eyes, his eyes steely blue.

Neither of them saw it coming.

~xXx~

Back at home, Harry had been sick again the minute they arrived. He was in crisis and neither could see the way out.

The agenda management had laid out was already in place. They had called them to the office to tell them what was happening, a _courtesy_ , they had called it. There had been no bargaining, no reasoning. The story was set to run in the next day’s tabloids with follow ups in the US trash mags later that week. The headlines undermined everything they had fought for, everything they had so hoped they were heading for.

_‘Larry Stylinson rumours confirmed! Yes, girls, it has been confirmed that Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson did indeed hook up when the band first got together! The details will break hearts all over the world!’_

Inside the stories got even worse.

‘ _Yes girls, a 1D official has told us that the two heartthrobs were indeed an item for a while back in 2012! The whole affair was very hush-hush, but this won’t come as a shock to a lot of their devoted fans who were always convinced that something was going on between the pair thanks to their body language in interviews. It appears to have soured quickly though – the pressure of fame and the fans rabid interest in their romance soon ripped them apart and Louis sought solace with the lovely Eleanor, while Harry has worked his way through a bevy of older women. It seems their taste for boys was just a brief teenage experimentation that they soon got out of their systems…’_

_‘After the relationship disintegrated, the band were in crisis for quite some time afterwards. Their Management team had to intervene and make them see that they still had a future together. The other band members still find it awkward to be in the room with both of them, the pair are still not on speaking terms three years later. ‘The animosity is awful,’ an insider said. ‘They really can’t stand each other. They’ve only stayed together while the band is still doing well, but both can’t wait for it be done.’ So what does the future hold for the world’s biggest band now? You’ve got to wonder how they’ve held on so long. Their yearlong tour ends soon and surely they have enough money now to call it a day…’_

_‘A source has told us that Harry is insatiable and loves his women to be knowledgeable if you know what we mean! ‘He’s certainly not into boys now!’ an insider said. ‘He loves to spend the night with as many beautiful women as he can.’ Who wouldn’t want to spend the night with Harry Styles?’_

_‘There are rumours circulating that Louis’ family are very keen for him to make Eleanor a part of the family permanently and start a family of his own in the not too distant future. Pictured here with his baby brother and sister, he’s clearly going to make a doting daddy! Louis has been seen shopping with his girl and they looked pretty cosy to us. When are you popping the question, Louis?’_

~xXx~

Harry was falling apart before Louis’ eyes and he seriously considered taking him to see their doctor. Louis couldn’t see how they were going to get through the rest of the tour this way, pretending to fight, to actually _hate_ the very person each of them adored with every piece of their heart.

It was a few days later when Harry wandered out of the bedroom after a long nap which Louis believed was down to depression more than lack of sleep, and announced what he wanted to do.

“Lou – I want us to get new tattoos.”

Louis nodded his acquiescence, having no problem with getting more ink, especially when it was for their relationship. He looked to Harry for him to continue.

“We got the ship and compass when we were apart before and that was the worst I’ve ever felt being away from you, watching you so unhappy. It broke my heart.” He raked his hair, his eyes hollow and bleak. “Let’s pick something personal, something that will connect us to each other no matter what. How about lyrics? Something written by you that I can hold close to me when I can’t hold _you_.”

Louis held out his arms and Harry half stumbled into them, wrapping himself around Louis the way he always had, uncaring that he was now so much taller. To him, Louis would always be home.

“I’ll have something of yours too. For when I can’t hold you like this.” Louis mumbled, his face buried in Harry’s hair, pressing kisses wherever he could reach. Harry didn’t smile, his face so sad it ripped Louis apart. He backed to the couch, collapsing onto it, Harry with him.

“When can we get them?” Harry snuggled deeper into Louis’ arms.

“Let’s call tomorrow – see if we can get a late night appointment. They usually agree. We’ll get one of the drivers to drop us off round the back.” He stroked Harry’s hair. “You still look tired, babe. Let me make you a cup of tea.” He made to get up, but Harry didn’t let go.

“In a bit. Want to stay here.”

Louis held him tight and soon Harry was asleep again. Louis changed the channel on the TV and turned down the volume, prepared to wait it out until Harry woke again. When Harry showed no sign of waking, Louis hooked a blanket from the back of the couch with his finger tips and covered them both as best he could. He fell asleep listening to the footie results on the news.

When they woke, it was early morning, the lights and TV still on. Harry stretched out on the couch and looked up at his Louis, his head lolled to one side, hair mussed. _He didn’t want to wake me so he stayed_. Sitting up, he pressed kisses to his cheeks, forehead and nose, waiting for him to come to, to show Harry those beautiful blue eyes that held his heart. When they fluttered open, the first thing they saw was Harry, smiling at him, pillow creases in his cheeks from Louis’ trackies. Louis’ hand cupped his cheek, thumb caressing over the bone, and Harry tilted his face into his hand, all but purring. Leaning in, Louis kissed him softly, morning breath be damned.

“Love you, Haz.”

Harry lit from within, just like always, his eyes big and bright, basking in Louis’ love.

“Love you, Lou.”

They gazed at each other for a long moment, always looking, never tiring of the beauty before them. Louis shifted.

“I need a wee and a cup of tea. I kinda fell asleep last night without my night-time cuppa.”

Harry let him up and headed to the kitchen to boil the kettle while Louis attended to his urgent problem. He appeared in the kitchen a minute or so later, wrapping an arm around Harry’s waist, his hand landing in its favourite place above his hip. Harry’s head fell against Lou’s shoulder and they stood in silence waiting for the kettle to boil. When the tea was made and Louis felt more human, he remembered.

“I’ll ring the tattoo shop this morning and see if I can get us in tonight. Have you decided what you want or shall we sort that this morning?”

Harry nodded. “Pretty sure I know what I want. Had an idea for yours too, if you like it.”

“If you chose it I’ll love it.”

Harry explained what he wanted. Louis was only too happy to agree.

~xXx~

Later that evening, Alberto picked them up from home, noting their drawn faces, the lack of smiles. In particular, the fact that they were all but glued together when they walked, and huddled together in the car. He knew what this meant by now.

“Are they sending one of you away again during the next break?”

Louis met his eyes in the rear-view mirror, dark fury boiling in their depths. Harry’s face was grey, he looked defeated and _done._  

“You saw the papers, Al. Apparently our ‘split’…” he mimed the inverted commas, “has reached crisis levels and I’m to spend more time with Eleanor while Harry is being banished to the US for a good old high-profile romance with some bird whose agent fancies getting her a bit of promo with my boy.” His voice shook, with anger or anguish, he couldn’t tell anymore. “We’re not to see each other for three months over the summer break. Hence tonight’s trip to the shop; there’s something we need to do before he has to go.” His arm tightened around Harry behind the blacked out windows, pulling him in close to press kisses to his temple. Harry never said a word, staring listlessly out of the window.

Alberto nodded, the melancholy in the car suddenly choking him.

Hustled in the back door, Harry was in the chair first, his design marked out and ready for the needle. During the process, he held Louis’ hand despite having no fear. Their tattoo artist was no stranger, although they were rarely so open and demonstrative around him. He didn’t comment, perhaps noting the bags under their eyes, the sadness emanating from them, and concentrated on the words he was etching onto Harry’s skin, so telling in their sentiment. Once he was done, Harry examined himself in the mirror, smiling at Louis, before it was Louis’ turn in the chair. His words echoed the sentiment already emblazoned on Harry’s skin, and the artist nodded to himself, slotting the pieces together in his mind. Maybe he understood, maybe not, but he hoped everything worked out right. These two boys were writing the story of their lives on their skin and that spoke volumes.

Once done, Louis stood up, wincing a little, and checked out the writing that arched around his right hip. The solid black summed up how he felt about Harry in Harry’s own words: _Cause I’m tired of feeling alone._

Harry’s matching ink on the opposite left hip read _I’ll make this feel like home._ When Louis held him, his hand sat directly on it. Harry had wanted it that way, to always feel Louis close, no matter the miles between them.

~xXx~

As the days rolled on, the day of their enforced separation grew ever closer.

The rest of the band watched the boys collapse inward, needing each other more than ever whilst having to maintain a frosty indifference in the public eye. During their stage shows they were under strict instructions to not interact, to play up the ‘feud’. The interaction between Liam and Louis was much loved by the fans, and due to Niall playing guitar for much of the time this left Harry isolated on the far side of the stage, with Zayn working the main runway. This fuelled the story in all their concert reports, and despite his happy onstage demeanour, Harry was fooling no one, media pundits claimed. He was avoiding his hated bandmate on stage and being deliberately difficult by distancing himself.

The band were clearly imploding and this album and tour would be their last.

What the self-important journalists didn’t see each night on stage was Harry waiting and watching for Louis to pass him, to absorb as much of him as he could to get him through. Louis was less subtle, but the reports never picked up on his hungry gazes, the way his eyes raked over Harry whenever they could, desperate to be near him, craving his touch.

Each night they had only one brief moment of interaction that they could steal, that no one in the stadiums and arenas knew about. It was a standing joke in the band that Louis had a bladder the size of a walnut whenever he was on stage, needing nervous wee breaks throughout the show. Harry had started to make sure he was near the back of the stage dancing and twirling to his own inner voice, able to slip out to the darkened backstage area, leaving the other lads to cover for them while they read signs and told silly stories. As soon as they had done the necessary toilet visit, Louis would press Harry against the nearest wall and kiss the life out of him for as many seconds as he dared, desperate, pained kisses until they were needed back on stage to resume the set. They perfected this brief liaison for maximum effect in minimal time, arriving back on stage separately, Louis adjusting his shirt and Harry giving his hair a casual ruffle.

The other lads noticed after a while, realised that their friends were stealing a moment alone and covered for them admirably. To only be able to touch your lover for a few seconds was intense and infuriating. Their time was further limited by scheduled pap walks for Louis, taking him further away from his precious alone time with Harry. After the show was over, Louis the party animal was expected to be papped out and about at a local club alone, to be seen dancing and on occasion leaving with some unnamed female.

On some rare occasions when they were outside of the UK, they were able to meet up in clubs where they were relatively unknown, or where the patrons just didn’t care who they were. These moments of letting loose were so liberating, to able to touch and interact with no one pointing a camera. They danced close, snuggled, and generally acted as coupley as they wanted, only pausing to get rid of unwanted admirers, wanting a piece of the pretty boys. A glare and a muttered ‘ _fook off’_ usually did the trick. These moments passed unnoticed, allowing them breathing space to be regular people out on a date. As long as they were together, everything was okay.

The tabloid articles gave rise to a huge increase in social media mentions, fierce messages of support for them both, whether because they had been ‘brave’ to admit their past, or because the savvy amongst them could smell the lie hidden in the ‘confession’.  Despite their usual rule, Harry and Louis lay in bed reading Tumblr and twitter feeds, trying to guess their level of support amongst the fandom. They got the expected hate and gay bashing from non-fans, they had expected that. It hurt that many former fans were now against them, not willing to accept their past ‘indiscretion’. The fans in general it appeared were at war with each other, the Larries as they called themselves, versus the non-believers, and the other fandom shippers. It appeared that the Larry faction was being beaten down now, everyone saying their ‘ship’ was dead, the boys had said it had blown over, burned out as quickly as it had begun. They were heartened to see that a large percentage of fans still fiercely believed though, their hearts unable to let go of their ‘dream’.

Security was tight in their hotels. No one was to know that they shared a room, going so far as to book entire floors to prevent eye witnesses. Lying in bed after their show a month later, they tried to make sense of why the world cared so much about their love lives. Harry had had a particularly bad show, having been hit in the face by a flying bottle of water during the first number. He had said he was fine, but later confessed to having a bad headache for the rest of the show. Louis had been furious, tearing a strip off the security surrounding the stage for allowing the incident to have happened in the first place. It was all he could do to not storm off stage and find the person responsible. He was off his game for the rest of the night, worrying and fuming. Harry caught his eye whenever he could until they had their chance to disappear backstage.

“Love, are you okay?” He checked him over tenderly, looking for bruising. Harry shook his head.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. It just stunned me, that’s all. Unexpected. Now kiss me before we have to go back out there.”

Louis wasn’t about to stop worrying that easily, but when his lips found Harry’s, he made sure he poured all his love into that kiss, enough reassurance to get them both through the show. If he appeared a little rigid onstage, less his usual playful self, it was put down to anger at the lack of forethought by the venue, when in actuality he was watching Harry for the remainder of the show as best he could from his peripheral vision, orbiting him to check he looked okay. Harry for his part noticed the attention and tried to contain his affectionate smile.

Leaving the stage to the thunderous closing strains of Best Song Ever, Louis’ anger had yet to abate. They ran to their cars, Louis behind Harry, and climbed in, the car already on the move before they closed the door. His arms found his Harry and pulled him close, planting soft kisses to his hair. Nothing was said until they reached their hotel. The bus was parked outside ready for the off first thing in the morning, their last trip before the end of the UK leg of the tour. Seeing it hulking in the darkness, his usual affection for the bus was overtaken by a burning hatred for what it now represented.

Leading Harry inside, Louis followed Alberto until they were on their floor, the other lads and their bodyguards at their heels. They all flocked into Louis and Harry’s room, it being the biggest, and fetched beers from the fridge. Harry declined, sitting down in an overstuffed chair, while Louis fetched him a bottle of water and some painkillers before crouching next to him to check him over again. Harry submitted, leaning into him while gentle hands ran through his hair, sweeping it away from the slight bump. He hissed just a little when warm fingers brushed it, before smoothing back his hair.

“Take these, love.”

Harry obediently took the pills and chased them down with water.

The others looked on, glad he was okay. Harry stood and meandered into the bedroom to lie down, leaving the others to talk. Their bodyguards, content that all was well, left them to it and then it was just the four of them. The air was morose, everyone aware of the problems. Niall was the bravest and took the first shot.

“We can’t let this happen again. There’s too much stuff getting thrown up on stage. It’s like playing in a war zone down on the catwalk. Any minute one of us could be hit or trip on something. We don’t need broken limbs. We need to have security tighten this up. Cups only, no bottles, or at least no bottle tops. Less missiles that way. Can’t do much about the phones and coins they chuck though.”

Zayn nodded in agreement.

“You don’t want water in your guitar either, Nialler. Water and electrics don’t mix well.” His soft sarcastic drawl and raised eyebrow made their point. Liam looked at them both, then at Louis.

“He’ll be okay, right? You’ll keep a close eye, I know. We get a day off tomorrow to travel so he can sleep if need be. Might help.”

Louis shook his head, scraping his fingers through his dirty hair in aggravation.

“It won’t though, Li. He doesn’t need more sleep – he sleeps half the day as it is. He needs… he needs…” He tailed off, lost and tired, so very tired of all of this.

Liam looked worried, shuffling closer to Louis to throw an arm around him.

“What? What is it?”

Louis voice cracked. He felt like a traitor saying this aloud, even to his best mates. “I think he needs help.” His head fell into his hands and for a moment he thought he would burst into tears. Taking a deep breath, he sat up again, seeing the concerned faces watching him.

“Ever since they announced that… _bullshit_ … to the press, I’ve watched the light in him die. I thought we could get through anything – we have so far – but this… this cut him deep. He’s sinking and I’m really scared for him, for _us._ ”

Liam pulled him into a hug, feeling Louis fall into it for a moment before pulling back.

“Have you spoken to Anne? I think he needs to be home for a while.”

Louis’ laugh was brittle, leaving indelible scars in the air around them.

“We've what… three shows left in this leg? Then we get the summer off. I’d love it if he went home, even if I couldn’t be with him, but you know what they have planned for him. Summer in the US for another publicity promo relationship.”

Liam gripped his shoulder. “So you both go MIA for a bit over the summer. Nothing new there. You spend some time away from the paps – take him home to Cheshire. Get him better.”

The others nodded in agreement, their faces registering real worry. Louis was not one to break like this. It was a shock to see him crumbling. That was when Louis realised that they didn’t have the full story. Maybe he and Harry had intended to tell them, but with the tabloids and the shows and the rumours, they hadn’t told them everything. He took a deep breath, meeting Niall’s and Zayn’s gazes before turning back to Liam.

“Lads… this isn’t going to be a couple of weeks in LA this time. We’ve been given strict orders to stay apart for three _months._ Basically until tour rehearsals resume for the US leg. Haz will be in the US ‘romancing’ some second rate singer, actress or whatever who needs publicity, and I have to stay here for an intensive period with El.”

He watched their faces fall, the understanding that slipped into place like heavy shutters.

“Shit.” Zayn’s quiet voice came before he took a heavy swig of beer. “They’re going to make sure you’re constantly seen so you can’t sneak off together. _Fuckers._ ” He rubbed his stubble in agitation, and Liam watched them both with concern.

“When does this all start, Tommo?” Niall’s voice was low.

Louis stared at the label on his beer as if it held all the answers.

“Couple of days after the last show. By next week Haz’ll be in the US, and I don’t know what I’m gunna do.”

They got through the rest of the shows, robots going through the motions. The papers noticed that of course, they could always be relied upon the spot the cracks, but even if they knew (and the boys suspected they did), they wouldn’t report the truth when the lies were much more titillating to the readers. Lies sold papers, with no regard for the subject. Maybe one day they would claim the apology they deserved, but it would be too little and far too late.

After each show Harry would deflate the moment he left the stage, quiet and introverted. It was down to Louis to make sure he ate something, with varying degrees of success. The summer stretched before them, endless hours, days, of stunting and pap walks, getting ‘caught’ coming out of hotel rooms that weren’t his, and general undermining of his strong character. Louis was falling apart trying to hold Harry together, holding him tight every night, stroking his hair until he slept. Harry’s sleep talking had returned, stress making him anxious and unable to rest. He mumbled on and on, repeating words and phrases, sometimes calling out to Louis even while he was held in his arms.

Louis got little rest, eaten up with worry. After a particularly bad night, Harry calling out over and over again, he made the decision to speak to management. He figured he had to do something. Harry needed family around him, not space and strangers. Trips to the US were fine and dandy when they were for a few days and both knew what was happening. They had itineraries and appointments to fill the days, staying in private homes away from the public. They got to do personal things like shop and look at property. Most importantly, they weren’t alone. Louis knew Harry could go and stay with his American friends for a bit, but that could interfere with the plans laid out for him and his scheduled bed–hopping activity.

It made Louis sick to his stomach. The fact that it was fake made no difference. It was the inference that his Harry was a rich, unscrupulous, English popstar who took what he wanted because of his high profile. Anyone who knew Harry knew that was utter bullshit – he was loved by everyone he met, charming and polite, and quite frankly downright adorable when drunk. In reality there would be no scandals around Harry Styles because he was just too _nice_ to get embroiled in anything so unseemly. He liked to have fun, spend time with friends, buying them extravagant presents and brushing off their protestations. He was a sweetheart to shop assistants, having them flocking around to please him. He exuded charisma and every iota of it was genuine.

Only those that crossed him or hurt someone he cared about knew the other side of Harry. He was still so polite, but cold, and more than happy to call in legal representation. Louis had seen him in action and it had been awe-inspiring, and more than a little bit of a turn on.  That Harry was the one who blew his mind every single time in bed, inventive and imaginative, and attuned to Louis’ every need. The Harry in his arms now was a stranger, a hollow mannequin of the man he adored.

Reaching for the phone, he called the management office and told them he was coming in straight away. He had things to sort out and no, they couldn’t wait.

His car whisked him into the centre of London, Alberto at his side. Pulling himself up to his full height, he pushed open the doors with enough force to be noticed and stalked past the receptionist who merely nodded at him when he had already passed by. Taking the glass lift up the third floor, he stood in his familiar stance, legs apart, hands clasped, face carefully composed. He was met at the lift and escorted directly to the boardroom where the management stood, waiting. He noticed straight away that they waited for him to sit first, a power play to let him know was in charge. Clearing his throat, he met their impassive stares.

No one spoke.

“I’m here to talk about Harry.”

Silence.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed from the last couple of gigs that he’s not himself. I want him to see a professional. He needs help and he needs family around him. Sending him away…”

He was cut off before he could say more.

“Mr Styles will be on the flight to LAX in two days as planned. His itinerary has already been sent to our people at Columbia.”

Louis tried to rein in his vitriol, maintaining a cool, almost impassive façade.

“He isn’t in a fit state to go. He’s not coping at the moment and I really want him to see someone. He isn’t getting any quality sleep and he barely eats…”

“If Mr Styles wishes to see a doctor I can suggest some excellent ones in LA. Now, if that is all…”

“All? No that isn’t bloody _all!_ ” Louis’ self-control exploded. “He cannot be alone right now! Don’t you get it? I’m afraid for him! I think he’s having a breakdown…” He raked his hair in utter despair.

“While I see that you will both find the separation difficult, it is his job. Yours is to stay here and fulfil your contract with Miss Calder. You have a busy summer ahead of you, Mr Tomlinson, and I suggest you get used to that idea. You will rejoin him for the US leg of the tour as planned. Surely you would not be so selfish as to jeopardise the band’s success by not doing your share of tour promotion? Mr Payne is with Miss Smith and Mr Malik is with Miss Edwards. You all have your jobs to do. Miss Whitmore and Miss Whitelaw are both linked to Mr Horan – everything is on track.”

Louis exasperated look had no effect on the men sitting before him.

“If you and Mr Styles wish to one day go public with your relationship, there are many steps to making that happen. This takes time.”

“ _How much_ time? How long until I can tell the world I love Harry? Until I can walk down the street with my arm around him? _How long?_ How many hoops do we have to jump through? We’re not circus animals you can whip to perform.”

“You will do as you are told, Mr Tomlinson. Believe me, what you do and don’t do can break this band apart. We are the ones calling the shots and you will fall in line.” The men the boys in the band privately called Heckle and Jeckle stood up, effectively calling an end to the impromptu meeting. 

“Give our regards to Mr Styles. We look forward to hearing good things from LA.”

Louis stormed out of the office, making it to the car before helpless tears wet his cheeks.

He had failed, and deep down he had known he would, but it hadn’t stopped him trying.

~xXx~

The day had dawned for Harry to leave and, fittingly, it was raining.

Anne had come down the day before to spend time with Harry and to tell him she would come visit him if she could and to keep smiling. Louis saw straight through it all, and later when Harry was napping again, she pulled him aside, her face drawn.

“He’s really not okay, Lou. Can’t you guys find a way around this, even if it’s only for a weekend here and there? I don’t understand it – he’s usually so much more resilient. I’m really not happy about leaving him like this. I’d go with him if I could, but he can’t be seen arriving with his mother.”

Louis collapsed onto the couch, his head in his hands. She perched next to him, her hand on his shoulder. “Is he staying at your house over there the whole time? I’m going to arrange for some time off to go see him if you can sort it with his security for me.”

Louis looked at her worried face and beckoned her into a hug.

“Let me know when you want to go and I’ll sort everything. You just show up at the airport, okay. Talk to Harry once he’s there – Heckle and Jeckle won’t even tell me his itinerary over there, but he’ll know more once he lands. I don’t know how I’m going to cope, not being able to fly out to him. Somehow Skype’s not going to be enough. I miss him so much when he’s off for a week or so – everything feels wrong and off balance when he’s not here. Three months on autopilot, wasting our lives with the wrong people and for what? Pictures and lies in gossip rags.”

His tattoo itched, a welcome reminder of their commitment. Anne saw him reach to scratch before stopping himself. She smiled then, recognising the way he clenched his fingers.

“More ink? What is it this time?”

Louis’ smile was weak, but there.

“We got lyrics written by each other.” He pulled his trackies down a fraction to show the words inscribed into his hip. He saw her face fall, recognising the line from Harry’s song.

“Oh love. You two are such hopeless romantics. I guess I’ll have to wait ‘til later to see what you chose for him. I’ve no doubt it’s equally fitting.”

Louis chuckled, nodding. “Oh it is.” He pushed himself to his feet. “I’m going to lie down with Haz for a bit. You know where everything is, yeah?” She nodded and he headed upstairs to his boy, closing the door behind him and turning the lock.

Harry lay in the bed, looking immeasurably small, his body curled up ready for Louis to spoon him, his eyes open and staring blankly.

“Hey, love. Been talking to your mum. She’s going to come out and spend some time with you once you’re at the house. We don’t want you alone out there, okay?”

If he expected a fight he didn’t get one. Harry’s bright, public persona had been shed like an old skin, leaving only this tender, fragile creature in his arms. Turning into his warm body, he pressed kisses into Harry’s neck before finding his lips and settling in for the winter, saying an unending goodbye until they could be together again.

It was exquisite agony.

~xXx~

Waking up in each other’s arms that morning, both felt sick to the core, neither wanting to speak and risk breaking the fragile resolve they had tried to create between them. Louis looked into Harry’s sad eyes, and wanted to just walk away from it all, the band, the shit and the media circus, and just be a regular couple. He wanted to make love to Harry again and show him how deeply he cared, how painful their separation was, but he couldn’t do it. Harry was on the verge of tears, a broken china doll that only Louis could repair, yet was cruelly denied the opportunity. All they could do was lie there and hold each other, committing the feel, the scent, the shape of each other to memory, to try and recall it when they were alone. The alarms broke the interminable silence, tearing their bubble to opalescent shards that vanished before their eyes.

Unable to leave each other’s side, they kissed every few seconds, showering together so Louis could shampoo Harry’s beautiful hair, kissing under the spray, clinging to each other like lost children. Harry left his hair to dry naturally after Louis towelled the water out of it, dressing in his favourite jeans and a loose, flowy shirt. His face was chalk-pale, his pink lips a sharp contrast to the dark clouds beneath his red-rimmed eyes.

They still hadn’t spoken and the air hung heavy with unspoken words that wouldn’t touch the tip of their pain. Louis stood by his side while he gazed around the room, resting his hand on Harry’s hip ink, thumb brushing the spot to remind Harry he was always there. When the car arrived and parked outside, reality was too much, and they turned to each other as one, tears shining on their cheeks.

“I love you, Harry. With everything that I am, I love you and will love you always.”

Harry sagged, his lip wobbling as it had when he was just sixteen and afraid of letting everybody down.

“I love you, Lou, _my_ Lou. One day we’ll be free – no more secrets, no more lies. I love you to the stars and beyond. You are my infinity.”

He tried to smile, but failed. Their goodbye kiss was agony: desperate, painful and breathless. To Louis, it felt like he was watching Harry go off into battle, fighting for both of them with the same uncertainties hovering over them. Both knew this could resolve nothing – they could spent three months apart and in pain, for it to achieve nothing at all.

Watching Harry get into the limo and seeing it pull away, it felt like his chest had been wrenched open, his heart ripped free and thrown into the dirt.

Without Harry, he had no use of it.

Alberto made no attempt at conversation during the drive, ushering a silent Harry through the airport to the jet and settling him in. Harry had blanked the paps, not wanting to let them see his face, using luggage as a prop to keep his head down, face hidden behind his curtain of hair. Their questions were so predictable, screaming for quotes about Larry Stylinson, and how did Eleanor feel about that, coming second in Louis’ affections to a young boy. Was there tension between them still? Did they speak at all when they weren’t performing?

Harry was dignified in his silence, only collapsing inward when he was on-board _without Louis_ and on his way to his new life for the summer _without Louis._

The flight seemed to go by so fast and then he had the US paps screaming for the same answers, the same inane questions about did he still like boys? Had there been any more gay relationships since Larry? Who was he dating now? What lucky lady had ‘converted’ him?

His teeth ground together and he was mightily glad the limo was waiting by the kerb – even more so that it had tinted windows to hide his forlorn expression. His fingers twisted the ring on his middle finger, round and round and round, feeling the absence of his friends and Louis keenly.

Visiting LA for fun and leisure was a blast. He loved to shop, to spend time with friends, to soak up the atmosphere. He loved their home there and spending time away from everything with Louis. His stomach roiled when his head reminded him again that Louis wasn’t joining him this time, that he would be living in their house alone. The only beacon of light he held was that his mum was coming out in the next couple of days and he wouldn’t be rattling around the empty house for the first week or so. She would make sure he ate at least; without Louis, Harry tended towards juices and vegetables. Sure it kept him lean, but Louis made him eat more substantial food once in a while. Harry would never eat pizza or any takeaway to be honest if he were alone. It wasn’t that he didn’t like it, it just didn’t seem worth it just for him, whereas Louis loved to kick back and order in when he wanted a lazy night.

Pulling up at the house, he grabbed his bag from the seat (just the one this trip, because _no Louis_ ), and headed inside. It smelled empty, devoid of joy, and matched his mood. The maid had stocked the cupboards and fridge with lots of fresh produce, the bed was freshly made, and all Harry wanted to do was crawl into it and sleep the next three months away. What he did was dump his bag on the bedroom floor and head to the kitchen to boil the kettle. He needed tea. His phone rang when he was taking his first sip, and one glance told him it was management checking in. He answered with scarcely disguised distaste, confirming he had arrived and that yes, he knew where he had to be in the morning, and yes, he knew the paps would be there to meet him and his new ‘fling’. He was off the phone after a curt response to their reminders about his contract, and then he dialled, waiting for the sound of home across the miles.

“Haz? You arrived okay, love?”

Harry’s hand found his dishevelled hair, his legs taking him back to the bedroom where he collapsed onto the mattress, almost spilling his tea. He set it down and lay back to listen to Louis’ voice, so welcome, so vital.

“Yeah. Just spoke to Heckle and Jeckle – I’m meeting some American model tomorrow for three months of romantic rendezvous’. I hope this one realises that she’s a pawn too and doesn’t try anything. I don’t know how else to get the message across when I’m not allowed to just say ‘sorry love, I’m gay’.”

Louis’ soft sigh travelled down the signal. “Make sure she sees your ring, babe. If she has any common sense she’ll realise what it signifies. If she doesn’t, we’ll make management have a word with her lot – reiterate the point that it’s for promo only. I don’t want my boy molested by some deranged bird who thinks she’s paying for services rendered.”

Harry rolled on to his side, his phone on the pillow and his ear atop it.

“I hate being mauled. I’m lucky that I have a possessive boyfriend. He doesn’t let anyone get too friendly with me.” He huffed out a light laugh.

Louis smiled, the sound evident in his words. “He sounds like a good sort. You best keep hold of him.”

Harry answered from his heart. “Oh I intend to. He’s wonderful – and his has this incredible arse – absolutely perfect, just like the rest of him. Even when he gets crabby and argues with me.”

In his mind, Louis pushed a curl back over Harry’s ear, gazing into green-gold eyes that owned his soul. His hand twitched on instinct at hearing his voice, and it pained him that he couldn’t reach out to him. He could touch him with words only.

“I just love you, Haz, and I want to be there with you. I’m waiting to hear what they have planned for me. I still want to come out there if I can, even if it’s just for a weekend. No idea how I’ll do it without them finding out though. At least we have Skype and facetime as usual.”

“Yeah.” Harry’s drawl was a sure sign he was thinking too hard, and Louis was well aware of where that could lead without a distraction.

“I mean it. No matter what, we need to stay strong through this. Your mum loved my ink by the way. She recognised the lyrics as yours straight away. Did you show her yours?”

“No.” Louis could hear Harry chewing his gum over the silent connection. “I’ll show her when she gets here. Lou?”

Louis’ heart clenched. “What, love?”

“Write me something – write some lyrics just for me. Please? I just need some secret part of you that I don’t have to share.”

“Anything love. When it’s ready I’ll send it to you, I promise. Are you ready for tomorrow?” Harry’s silence was a bad sign, and Louis felt worry bubble up in his gut. “Just do what you got to, babe. It’s all fake as fuck and the fans know that. Just remember that you’re fooling the smallest percentage of the public. Call me when you get done? Don’t worry about the time difference. You need me, you call. Promise me, love.”

“I promise.” Louis heard him shift, heard the gentle swallow of what was probably tea. “I feel like I did when we were sent home for that week in X Factor. We weren’t even together properly, but I missed you so damn much.”

Louis understood that feeling. “It worked out though. We made up for lost time and we’ll do that again when I can come out there. I’ve got the charity ball to organise while you’re away too, although Mum’s doing a lot of that. I’m in charge of promo and fundraising. Keep an eye on twitter – there’ll be a lot of me coming up very soon.”

“Lots of Lou in a suit. I look forward to it. You know how I feel about that look on you. Double breasted suits show off your figure to perfection. Mind you, I like taking them off of you too.” His slight giggle was heartening to Louis.

“Ohh, I remember. I know one of your kinks is me in a suit. Lots of pictures will be coming your way for sure. Think of it as long-distance foreplay.” He smiled.

Harry’s almost imperceptible moan drifted into his ear. “I’ll need a private Skype striptease after that event.”

Louis could all but feel the warm breath in his ear.

“Whatever you want. All for you, Haz, all yours. You know that.”

“I didn’t say before, but I left a shirt hanging in the guest room. You can use it for the auction. Should raise a few quid.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure it’ll raise enough for a kebab on the way home.” His muffled laughter echoed through the tiny speaker.

“Heeeeeyyyyy. That’s a nice shirt. I washed it too.”

“You probably shouldn’t have – might have fetched more if it smelled of you. Mind you, then I’d have bought it back and worn it to sleep in.” The easy humour had left his voice, replaced by a sadness he tried hard to quell.

“Look under your pillow. I left you one. I put a bottle of my favourite cologne by the bed too. So you can still smell me.” Harry blushed, feeling embarrassed despite their years together. “I just thought…”

“No… don’t say it. I’ll spray it on your pillow. Perhaps it’ll give me sweet dreams.” He struggles to speak.  “You should try and get some sleep before tomorrow. You didn’t get a lot last night and, you know, jetlag.”

“Okay, I’ll try and take a nap.” His voice was subdued. “I love you, Louis.”

“I love you too, baby. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Remember, just fake it – big smiles all round until it’s done. Anne’ll be there soon for moral support. Until tomorrow, love.”

“Love you.”

Neither could say goodbye again, the word too painful. They disconnected, and laid back down, each feeling that half of them was missing, the void beside them in their beds too vast.

~xXx~

To the outside world, everything continued as before.

The boys were on their summer break, but instead of the time out everyone expected them to be enjoying, they were knee deep in their _other_ job – the trauma of promo.

Louis’ romance with Eleanor was being ramped up for tour PR. They had met with management and the following day were escorted to Glastonbury, security in tow, for a festival date.

Louis sighed for the 85th time in an hour, hearing Eleanor complain that she didn’t like the 1975 and wanted to go off and get a drink. Their instructions were very clear and meant that they had to stay together, look like they were having a good time, and most of all make sure the world believed they were in love. In the beginning, when their fake relationship was new, they had had stuff to talk about, idle chit chat about interests and friends, even their contracts when no one was within earshot. She got along with his family well enough, although it was tough watching his little sisters take to her, knowing he couldn’t even begin to explain to them the reality of what was going on – they were just too young to understand and to keep the truth a secret.

Now, the chit chat had dried up, the contract seemed never ending, and they had come to despise each other, neither comfortable with the touching and of course forced kissing they were made to endure for photos and candids. He truly had no idea why the world couldn’t see through it – they were so awkward around each other now, he walking ahead of her, only touching when it was insisted upon. Their handholding had degenerated into a couple of hooked fingers; the act had worn paper thin, and the only hand Louis wanted to hold for the rest of his life was Harry’s. Every fake kiss felt like a betrayal of their love and make him sick to his stomach that he was perpetuating such a lie. He didn’t care about El now; she had once said that she was going to get out of her contract, the management would have to come up with a breakup scenario for them, she claimed. She had nothing to lose and they both had plenty to gain. It transpired that they had made it worth her while financially to stay, promised her that her name would continue to appear in print long after the relationship was terminated, and to Eleanor that was sufficient motivation to continue on with this desperate charade. Louis had wanted to scream when she told him that, her nonchalance at his pain a stab in the back. This could have ended with a degree of professional respect, but Louis had long since lost all respect for her now.

Listening to her complain, texting and messaging friends, made him want to flip off the photographers he was playing up to for the candids, but being a media trained star, he forced himself to carry on, telling himself it was one step closer to the validation of his love for Harry.

Seeing a familiar ginger head appear through the crowd, bobbing closer to the VIP area, his heart lifted. It was his and Harry’s friend, Ed, who would be performing that evening and was the one reason Louis was enduring this farce of a day sober. Well, he wasn’t a saint, but a few beers wouldn’t turn him into a drunken lout at least. Extricating himself from the complaining lead weight at his side, he waved his arm in the air and grinned when he got the same response, pushing his way through until he met Ed near the bar.

“Ed, man!” He pulled his friend into a messy hug, clapping his back hard. “’s good to see ya!”

“Hey Lou! Great to see you! You here alone, or are the boys with you?” He was looking round.

Louis couldn’t hide his sarcasm.

“I’m on a ‘date’, aren’t I. Loads of fun.” He rolled his eyes to punctuate the statement, not wanting anyone nearby to translate.

Ed’s face dropped. “Sorry to hear that. Glad I don’t have to do that bullshit. How are you anyway? Everything alright at home?” His eyebrow twitched in mischief until he saw the sadness cross Louis’ face.

Taking a gulp of beer and lowering his voice, Louis gave him the lowdown.

“He’s in LA for the summer. No visits allowed. I won’t lie, mate, he’s not good. You haven’t spoken to him?”

Ed shook his head and took a drag of his cigarette, offering it to Louis who shook his head.

“I haven’t spoken to him properly since, bloody hell – must be April? We all went out after my tour ended. Shit. I’ll give him a call. Although…”

Louis looked up under his drooping fringe, the heat in the enclosure and the alcohol making his head buzz. Ed took a drag and blew out a plume of smoke. He leaned in closer.

“I’m going out to the states in a couple of weeks. I could combine my trip with a visit? Sounds like he could use a friend. I’ll send him a message and see if I can set it up. How’s that?” He saw the relief in Louis’ face, the slump of his shoulders when his eyes closed.

“Mate, that’d be great. He needs it, even if he says he doesn’t. You know how proud he is – don’t let him fob you off, yeah?”

“I know him well enough for him not to bother trying any of that shit. If you need me to take anything…” he shrugged. “Just let me know. Can’t imagine what you’re both going through. I couldn’t do it. Then again, don’t suppose any of us know what we can take until we have to, right?” He clapped Louis on the shoulder.  “I’ll look for you after my set if you’re going to be around?”

“I hope to be, mate. I’ll message you if I have to go early. Pap walks and all that shit.” His smile was bitter. He nodded over Ed’s shoulder. A couple of rather famous ladies were loitering, waiting for the opportunity to get Ed’s full attention. “There’s a couple of birds trying to get your attention over there. Go get ‘em and I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

Ed nodded, lit another cigarette, and shuffled over to where the blonde women were waiting to welcome him. He looked so comfortable, so at ease with himself in his scruffy jeans and shirt, his hair its usual bird’s nest, beard untrimmed. Was it his looks that drew the women or his talent? He hoped they wanted him for who he was, and not just the doors his name could open. He’d seen first-hand how shitty that could be.

Ed’s set was a knockout, the crowd singing all his hits back to him. Ed’s face was bright and alive, the guy so genuine and unassuming. Louis really liked him, and was glad Harry had such a good friend. Eleanor was swaying with the crowd and for once he didn’t have to be touching her or any of that fake shit he loathed. He stayed on the side lines, letting her be part of the crowd, and wishing Niall was there with him to lighten his mood. His clothes were muddied, his hair was completely fucked, and worse still, his beer cup was empty. Getting more was tempting, but he knew he had to keep his head to speak to Ed and get the hell out of here afterwards.

Ed completed his encore, and Louis pushed through the now wet enclosure until he found him again. More beers followed, and in the thinned out crowd Louis filled him in on more of the shit that had gone down since they last spoke. Ed was shaking his head, smoking furiously, scratching his head.

“That is so fucked up, man. They think if they separate you for long enough then everyone’ll forget? I read that fucking article and it made me sick. I know how badly he must have taken it – he’s so sensitive.” He slugged back his beer. “I never thought they’d be that fucking callous about you two. No visits…” He shook his head. “Jesus.”

Louis could only stare at the cup in his hand, his fingers unconsciously tracing the dagger on his arm. Ed watched, the way his body language screamed his misery to the world.

“Do you have his itinerary? I’ll try and facetime him when he’s free. Do my best to try and lift his spirits a bit. If Anne’s going then that’ll help. I know this isn’t the first time you’ve been forced apart, but if …you know, if he’s not doing so good, he’ll need all the support he can. Do you know who they’ve arranged for him out there?”

Louis shook his head. “Some Victoria’s Secret model. He’s got to spend the night at her place in a couple of weeks and be papped leaving. They’ve also demanded that candid pictures be taken in the apartment, supposedly ‘intimate’ ones of them in bathrobes or towels or some shit like that.” His hand crushed the cup he was holding. “I can’t bear the thought of everyone reading those rags with him looking like he just fucked her.”

“But you’ll both know he didn’t.” Ed rubbed his shoulder, offering comfort. “He’ll do it because he has to. That’s all.”

Louis’ fingers raked his hair.

“I’m sure he’s depressed. He’s been so quiet, and crying a lot since this round of bullshit started. I need to be there. I’m scared for him this time.”

Ed looked into his haunted eyes and shivered.

Security came to fetch Louis and escort him from the grounds. Eleanor was happy to go, complaining about her shoes and the mud. Louis would have cheerfully left her face down in it if she’d tripped over – his mind was elsewhere, with the only person that mattered.

~xXx~

Harry was introduced to the model at the Columbia offices. Her name was Alexa and she was the typical type they liked to pair him with: tall, bleached hair and a too-wide smile that displayed almost all her teeth. He shook her hand, ever the gentleman, and listened when they told him about their first date. Harry nodded, used to it all and so very tired.

This new girl seemed a little less switched on than the others had been. Enduring a painful, ‘romantic’ meal with a stranger was no one’s idea of a good time, but this girl was trying to flirt with him. He hoped he was wrong and tried to just keep it on a platonic level, but he started to doubt her reading of the situation when her bare foot slid up his leg under the table before he had time to stop her. He flinched, eyes wide, and shifted back in his seat so that she couldn’t quite reach. To his amusement, she looked put out and pouted in what she clearly thought was an adorable manner. Harry, inwardly rolled his eyes and carried on eating, eager to get out of the restaurant and home to talk to Louis.

Listening to her talking about modelling and what a cute couple they were going to make, made Harry’s attention wander. What brought him slap bang back to the present was when she made a coy comment about them ‘making the most of their time together in LA’. At first he thought she meant the shows and events they had lined up by management, but the more she talked and flirted, the more he realised that she either a) didn’t know he was gay, b) thought she could convert him or c) believed the womaniser image that management had built around him. With mounting horror, he remembered the overnight stays that he was obliged to carry out and foresaw nothing but trouble ahead.

Swallowing hard, he set down his knife and fork, his appetite gone. Dabbing his mouth with is napkin, he excused himself and went to the restaurant’s bathroom, locking the door and taking some deep breaths. Catching sight of his reflection, he saw his pale skin and the dark circles beneath his eyes. Lifting his shirt, he traced his finger over the words inked there, closed his eyes and willed his mind to recreate the feeling of strong arms around him, warm breath fanning his neck. Bringing his wrist to his nose, he inhaled Louis’s cologne and had to hold tight to the basin, his nails and knuckles white.

He could do this. He had to.

Distracting himself with fixing his hair, he blinked away the dampness in his eyes and took a cleansing breath before walking back out into the restaurant.

The first thing he noticed on his return was that she’d eaten almost nothing. He motioned for the bill and settled up, bracing himself for the pap walk to follow. Alexa giggled and clung to his arm, draping herself over him the minute the cameras started clicking. It was meant to be an ‘accidental’ sighting of them together and so smiles were not necessary. Harry kept his head down when he saw his car waiting at the kerb, all but dragging her to it, grateful for the cool darkness within.

She was giggling and still holding onto his arm which he attempted to extricate without offending her. He caught Alberto’s eye in the rear view mirror, seeing the sympathy he felt. He wasn’t like the other guards he’d had in the past, reckoning Harry was lucky to be with so many gorgeous women. Alberto understood – he had been Louis’ bodyguard first, but Louis had insisted he went with Harry, wanting him to have someone he trusted on the trip.

“Where to now, gorgeous? Fancy some shopping or…” She giggled, thinking herself flirtatious and adorable. It fell flat when all she got in return was a confused eyebrow hitch.

“We have another date scheduled for next week, yeah? I’m coming to your show.” If it were possible, Harry spoke even slower than usual, hoping this girl would understand. “Management gave you the itinerary? For our promo dating?”

_Jesus – how more obvious did he need to be?_

He played with the ring on his middle finger, _Louis’_ ring. He wanted her to catch on because management weren’t going to tell the girls involved that he was gay when they wanted him to appear available. This one appeared to have the skin of a rhino – nothing was getting through. Her nose wrinkled in displeasure at this gentle brushoff.

“Yes, but there’s nothing wrong with having some fun is there? Oh well, no need to rush things. You’re staying over in a couple of weeks anyway.” Thankfully the car drew to a halt outside her home and she pursed her lips in an air kiss in his direction. Harry had to fight every instinct not to recoil. His smile was stiff and polite.

“Until next time.”

She climbed out of the car, appearing annoyed that he didn’t get out to open her door, and sashayed down the path, looking back over her shoulder to see if he was watching.

The car had already pulled away.

“You okay, Harry?” Alberto’s comforting voice helped to ground Harry.

“Yeah, but she’s going to be a problem, Al.” He bit his lip.

“I agree. You’re going to have to play this one carefully. Will you be speaking to Louis tonight?” Their eyes met in the mirror and Harry nodded. “Good. Send him my best, won’t you. I’m sure he’s having a rough time too.”

The car purred to a stop outside their condo. Reaching for the door release, Harry looked up at Al. “Thanks, Al. I will.”

“’Til tomorrow, Harry.”

His answer was a heavy sigh.

With a weary heart, he changed out of his clothes, hanging them up as he went along. It made him think of Louis who scattered his to the four winds when they came off. Louis could never get lost when he left a trail a mile wide of discarded clothing.

Heading to the shower, he turned on the water and climbed in, letting the hot water wash away the feeling of disgust from his skin. In his mind’s eye he could see it swirling, dark and dank, down the drain until his skin felt his own again. He shook his head. He had weeks of this ahead – he needed to find a way of coping that wouldn’t drive him over the edge. The problem was that, although this separation wasn’t their first, it sure as hell was the longest and this time there were no planned getaways, no dates on the calendar for he and Louis to disappear and spend a week alone at their LA home together, away from it all, no time spent on private beaches, just the two of them, kissing, relaxing, loving.

He loved LA, but without Louis it all felt empty and tarnished, the lustre of life missing without his laugh, his smile, his kiss. Harry shook his head to clear the thoughts, but they crept in, insinuating themselves deep into his delicate psyche, working their will and causing damage that wouldn’t become apparent until later.

He heard his computer ping and pressed the accept call button, the screen suddenly and wonderfully filled with Louis’ face.

“Hi, love. I’ve missed you so much.”

His eyes, so very blue under his dark, feathered fringe, make Harry’s heart clench. He would hold it together for Louis, not worry him any more than he had already done back home. He swallowed, feeling the relief that Louis’ presence always provided, the warm, safe bubble he could retreat into.

“I’ve really missed you too. Thanks for lending me Alberto – he’s being really good to me.”

Louis’ eyes searched out the truth in Harry’s drawn face, to find the full story in his pinched eyes.

“He’s a good lad. I trust him and you should have that sort of bloke with you if it can’t be me.” He took a gulp of tea before asking the question he dreaded.

“How’s the model gig going? Is she an alright sort? Playing along?”

Harry hid behind his curtain of hair, his classic delaying tactic when he was worried, embarrassed or just out of his depth. “She… uh… she doesn’t appear to know. I can’t tell her, and she doesn’t seem to understand that I’m off limits to her. She’s getting excited about our ‘date’ in a couple of weeks when I stay over. I concerned she’s going to make a move and I won’t have any way of knocking her back without telling her the truth. I’ve tried pointing out this is just for, like, mutual promo?” He pushed back his hair. “But what if I refuse her and she goes running to the press? I mean, she was talking about us having fun during this gig, and she didn’t mean dinners.”

Louis felt his temper rise and forced a lid on it. There was nothing he could do from so far away, and Heckle and Jeckle sure as fuck weren’t going to step in. This could play into their narrative of having Harry seem confused.

“Love, you don’t do anything you don’t want to. Keep dropping hints to her, be kind, and if she works it out, then hopefully then she’ll understand how delicate this is and not go screaming to the nearest reporter. If her team are on the same side as ours, that shouldn’t happen, or should at least be shut down before she gets very far.”

“I know.” His green eyes looked into the camera, straight into Louis’s soul “How did Glastonbury go? Did you see Ed?”

Louis nodded and chuckled. “I did. He was getting some major ‘fuck me’ eyes from Ellie Goulding, so who knows where that night led. We had a long talk though and he’ll be in touch with you soon for a catch up now his tour’s finished. You may even have a houseguest for a bit.”

Harry brightened. “He’s coming out here? When?”

“I don’t know details, love, but pretty soon, I think. At least I’ll have someone I trust living with you for a bit. Speaking of which – you don't know where my favourite bottle of aftershave went, do you? I’m wearing some stuff I got for Christmas that I found in the bathroom cabinet. It’s not great.”

Harry’s pink cheeks were his answer.

“I’m wearing it. So I can smell you on me all the time. Go look in my bedside cabinet – there’s a new bottle in there for you. I bought a new bottle of your favourite when I bought you my cologne. I wanted your bottle from home with me – it’s more personal.”

Louis’ smile was so fond it was all Harry could do not to reach out and kiss the screen.

“Does it help?”

Harry’s embarrassed smile filled the screen. “Yeah, yeah it does.”

They talked about everything and nothing, until Harry’s eyes were drooping.

“Look at you, you party animal. A few days away from my good self and you mothball your party shoes in favour of an early night. So rock ‘n’ roll.”

Harry’s soft smile made his stomach ache with longing.

“I seem to remember that you’re the one who parties all night and I’m the one who waits up for you.” His voice couldn’t contain his affection.

“Well yeah, sometimes, but only for pap shit. You know as well as I do that we party hard on the quiet. If we didn’t have Nick under oath to keep his trap shut, the whole world’d know what we got up to in club toilets, wouldn’t they.”

“Hmmmm. Always fun. But you fucking me in bed beats them all.” His head was on his pillow, the laptop tilted so they could still see each other’s eyes. ”Nothing like it in the whole world, Lou.”

“I know the feeling, Haz.” His voice was a raspy whisper, the yearning taking hold of him, wanting to step though the screen to his boy, to hold him close and smell his skin. “Get some sleep, love. You’re shattered. I’ve got some time on my own tomorrow. We can talk during the day if you’re free. Let me know when you wake up.” He smiled at his sleepy lover, not wanting to disconnect the call, wanting to look at him while he slept, to feel he was in the room with him. But foolish notions were just that, and when his phone rang, the display showing management calling, he blew a kiss to Harry, told him he loved him, and ended the connection with a heavy heart.

Louis let Heckle and Jeckle have it over the phone, fighting for his boy. How dare they bring in someone who didn’t understand the situation? He would not have Harry treated like some piece of meat for some oversexed model to gorge on. They needed to understand how this could backfire if Harry rejected her and she threw a hissy fit. When she was brought on board to further her modelling career, didn’t they explain that it was just tit for tat promo? No real involvement?

When he paused for breath, they ignored him and gave him his next public appearance with Eleanor and he ground his teeth. Before they could hand up, he insisted they confirm they were looking out for Harry. All he received in return was placatory noises and nothing concrete at all.

He should have known then, but he couldn’t have guessed just how bad this was going to get.

~xXx~

They talked every day, desperate to feel close. Louis tried to call in the early mornings to catch Harry when he went to bed. Harry would fill him in on his days, describing the bits of it worth talking about. He teased some new clothes that Louis wouldn’t see until the tour restarted, and got him hot under the collar. They talked about the unpleasant stuff too, Harry knowing that he had to tell Louis everything, however much he hated it because secrecy would eat away at their relationship, rotting it from the inside out.

Harry wore a new Alexander McQueen shirt to the fashion show, his Saint Laurent silver boots and his black jeans, a pair of aviators on his head. He turned heads, posed for photos with fans and smiled dutifully until he was allowed inside. Naturally he had a front row seat, close enough to touch all the underwear models that he had absolutely no interest in whatsoever, other than to discuss clothes. The paps made much of his going to the Victoria’s Secret show and supporting his new lady. She had tried to catch his eye when she walked past him, but each time he was talking to the older woman next to him, discussing the ethics of using faux fur. It turned out she was a writer for Vogue, and after the show the two were deep in discussion on the latest catwalk designs. She queried why he wore clothes from the female lines, and Harry shrugged, saying he liked the shape and designs, and why not wear what he liked? They fit his slim frame and the cuts were perfect on him. She had no argument against it and admired his honesty along with his innate dress sense. He was a free spirit and so fresh in his opinions. She planned on pitching an interview with him for the winter issue.

Alexa was furious that her ‘boyfriend’ was not paying attention, and made her displeasure known, stalking up to him after the show and interrupting his conversation, a petulant child demanding attention.  He looked bewildered, having genuinely forgotten she was there, and offered profuse apologies for his ‘date’ which only made her madder. Having excused himself, a model of politeness and charm, he ambled after her, raking his fingers through his hair in agitation.

Finding her waiting by the door, he took her hand and walked out to the delight of the gathered press. Much was made later of Alexa’s dour face, and the apparent indifference of her beau.

That night he fell asleep early and didn’t hear the computer ping when Louis called.

~xXx~

Alexa was getting what her management were paying for. Numerous articles featuring pictures of her with Harry were all over the gossip sites, although the text that accompanied the articles wasn’t always flattering. They had overlooked reporting about her show in favour of writing supposition about her relationship, or lack thereof, with Harry. She should have been happy – her name was connected to a high profile musician with a keen interest in fashion. The problem was, Harry wasn’t fuelling any rumours of a romance.

She had a plan to change all that.

The day of their overnight stay dawned, and Harry woke up in a state of nervous agitation. Spending a couple of hours online with Louis had helped somewhat to relax him – it had significantly relaxed both of them physically at least – but the separation, always so very difficult to endure, was worse this time, with Harry’s loneliness threatening to overwhelm him in a way it never had before. He wandered about the house, losing track of time, picking things up and idly replacing them, stroking framed pictures of he and Louis that the world would never see. He sat drinking tea, wrapped in his bathrobe, staring out at the enclosed courtyard, richly green and beautiful in the morning sun. The silence of the house was often a sanctuary from the world, but at that moment he would have given anything to hear the lads laughing and arguing, his sister yelling at him for stealing her shampoo, his mum calling him down for breakfast.

Dragging himself back to the master bedroom, he threw open the doors to the deck and chose his clothes to appeal to the cameras, a loose shirt, open at the chest, drawing attention to his ink, a pearl pendant (a gift from Louis) sitting below the hollow of his throat, his hair artfully tousled and framing his face, curls falling over his ears.  Deep down he knew he was dressing for Louis, knew that Louis would see the pics in the tabloids soon enough and would know from one look at the pendant that his boy was doing this for him, for _them._

Tilting his head and baring his neck to the mirror, he stroked the spot that Louis so loved to kiss and bite, remembering how it made his knees weak. The skin was smooth and unmarked, destined to stay that way for some time. Straightening his shoulders, he smoothed down the shirt over his trademark black skinnies before heading out to the waiting car. The last piece of armour would be applied in the car: the polite smile to cover the loneliness.

Al watched him, saw how quiet he was, no energy for the day at all. He worried for his charge. Harry had mentioned his mum was coming out and asked if Alberto would be so kind as to fetch her from the airport. Of course he would – it would be a pleasure. He would feel more at ease when Harry had company – something was very wrong and being alone could only exacerbate the symptoms. Tonight’s rendezvous for the tabloids was clearly an issue, Harry a mere shadow of his usual upbeat self. The fans and the public saw quiet, respectful Harry, and to the most point that was true, but Alberto and the band saw the real Harry – the vivacious, giggly lad who turned into a loved-up softie once alcohol was in the mix. He was still so young, yet had fallen hard for Louis, the feeling mutual to anybody who cared to really look. What the boys didn’t know was that Alberto stayed in the job because of them, because he cared about their welfare. It wasn’t about money for him; it made him angry seeing how they were treated, and he made it his mission not just to keep them safe, but to be there for them whenever they needed him.  

Someone needed to look out for them when their own team treated them like puppets.

The car ride was short, too short, and soon they were at Alexa’s place, picking her up for their night on the town. First they were to go to dinner, be papped there, and then on to a club where he would then finish the night at her apartment.

_Why couldn’t they have just chosen one of my friends for this? The tabloids don’t know everyone in my life. This could have been comfortable, even fun, but no._

Alexa floated down the steps in skyscraper heels and along flowing dress slit up the side. Harry pushed his hair back and slid across the seat, opening the door for her from the inside, looking for all the world like he didn’t want to get seen with his new woman.

_If the paps are watching, let them make what they want of that._

She slid into the car, strong perfume assailing his nostrils when she leant over to kiss him hello. Her dress was low cut enough to show she wasn’t wearing a bra, and Harry instinctively looked away. It was unfortunate that Alexa noticed and frowned, annoyed that her seduction techniques weren’t working on him. He dredged up his politest smile, said hello, and the car pulled away for the short journey to the restaurant. The minute the car slowed, they jumped out and climbed the steps to the small, exclusive establishment, chosen specifically for this outing. It would also show Alexa off in her best light when she descended those steps later, her gown would bare enough to make sure she hit the headlines. Harry tried his best to be a good dinner companion, and with fashion being a subject close to his heart he thought he did pretty well. At least he had a good knowledge of the latest lines. He often thought he’d like to design for a label in the future. Alexa didn’t seem enthralled by this turn of events – in fact she seemed to turn the subject around to her career whenever he offered a viewpoint. It became apparent that the only subject she cared about was herself, and Harry was soon bored by her vapid chit chat and gossip mongering. It was clear to him that she had little respect for the industry in which she worked, and he made the mistake of saying so in a regretful slip of the tongue.

“If you hate it, why do it?” The question was honest, if foolhardy.

Her face darkened.

“I _am_ somebody in this business and soon I'll be a high profile name, in high demand.” She preened, expecting praise where none was forthcoming.

Harry eyes widened in disbelief, hiding his expression by looking at the table.

“What? You don’t think I can be a top model?” Her voice was rising and other patrons were starting to look over.

Harry modulated his voice, keeping it low and steady so as not to be heard at the next table. This was by far the worst fake date he’d ever had and that was saying something after the Taylor Swift debacle. He shuddered at the memory.

“I think the fact that you're dating me for promo says a lot about you making it in the business. If you can make it on your own why do you need me? I’m doing this for tour promotion – it’s in my contract. It’s for the good of the band as a whole. We’re doing the same thing and you don’t see me getting prickly if you say you don’t like our music, do you. It’s not personal, it’s business. Now let’s finish up and get the rest of the business concluded for the day.”

Most people would say it was very difficult to be offended by Harry Styles – the man was known to be polite, kind and respectful. What they didn’t necessarily know was that he had a strong will and could rarely be talked down from an action once his mind was set. A few photographers could attest to that when they lost their rights to stalk him on his home turf. He was a stealthy opponent, and one with deep pockets. Alexa had a lot to learn.

For one hideous moment he wondered if she was going to flounce out and cause a scene, but of course she was power hungry and wanted her five minutes of fame with the famous boybander from across the pond. It didn’t hurt that he was a notorious womaniser (on paper at least). Harry motioned to the waiter and sent him off with this credit card. Once the bill was paid, he escorted her outside, remembering to take her hand to help her down the steps towards the car. The paps were swarming around the entrance, his eyes filled with flashbulbs, his ears ringing to shouts of his name and hers.

_“Over here, Harry! Where are you two off to tonight?”_

_“Harry! What club are you off to next?”_

_“Harry! Harry! How long have you two been seeing each other?”_

_“Harry! Are you and Louis talking? Any statement on the article?”_

_“Any plans to go solo, Harry?”_

_“Harry! Are you guys calling it a day after this tour?”_

Teeth gritted, he pulled open the door and all but dragged Alexa into the car, wanting to be far away from questions about Louis, unsure how long he could maintain his poker face when his buttons were pushed repeatedly. Alexa was annoyed that he hadn’t allowed her a moment to pose for pictures, apparently unaware that it was meant to be an ‘accidental’ sighting. The woman was an amateur for sure.

To make matters worse, he now had to spend the night with her, at her apartment. He would rather bath in a pit of snakes than allow that women anywhere near him, and yet he had no choice. Perhaps he could distract her with a movie? It was bad enough that he couldn’t speak to Louis before bed. His heart sank at the realisation.

She lived in a modest condo close to a main street. There was a driveway that ran behind the property to a garage, but Alberto eased the car alongside the house, in full view of any ‘prying eyes’ as instructed. Harry wished Al was staying over too – he could use the company and the support - but Alberto was to collect him in the morning at 9am sharp. Before he could drive away, Harry changed the time to 8.30am, apologising to Alberto who simply nodded. The sooner he could leave the better it would be for all concerned. Plus the paps would think he was sneaking out which was better for everyone involved. He just hoped he could get some sleep.

Alexa let them in and walked through into her kitchen, flipping on discreet lighting. She led the way to a comfortable lounge room and invited him to sit.

“Would you like some wine, Harry?”

“Yeah, please.” He heard a bottle opening, the sound of glasses being filled before she reappeared next to him on the couch, too close for comfort. He took the glass, sweeping his hair back from his forehead in an unconscious gesture.

Her eyes raked him up and down, her long legs crossing to open the slit in her dress to dangerous levels.

“So what are we going to do to pass the time?” She licked her lips and Harry swallowed a mouthful of wine, trying to avoid her eye. “We could make a start on those pictures they asked us to take – the ones I can then leak on Instagram later once the media pages have posted their pictures of our date.”

Harry saw the opportunity and took it.

“I could use a shower before bed. Do you have a robe I can borrow? I can sleep in my clothes once we’ve taken the pictures.”

Her face dropped. All Harry could think of was talking to Louis and getting far away from this woman who, for whatever reason, thought she had a shot with him despite everything he had tried to tell her. She set down her glass.

“Are you telling me that you just want to sleep?” She tried for a cute pout but it fell flat when Harry didn’t respond. “We’re going to be dating for a while and I thought we could at least… you know. Make it fun? What’s a little no-strings fling? The public will think we are anyway – that’s the point. I mean – come on! I’m hot, you’re hot – let’s just enjoy ourselves.” She ran her fingers up and over her cleavage to where her dress plunged to expose far more than it covered.

Loud music sliced through the awkward moment and Harry reached for his phone.

_Louis._

His heart soared, his face lit from within at the sight of that one name flashing on the screen.

“I’m sorry, I have to take this.” He waved, the effect only half apologetic, and let himself out of the house, pressing the answer button before it rang off.

“Heyyy – so glad you called.”

“Hello, love. Thought you might need some support tonight.” Louis’ voice was warm in his ear, wrapping him in a comfy security blanket. Harry relaxed instinctively.

“You have no idea.” Harry walked further down the path, hoping to stay well out of earshot, not caring if Alexa was watching or not. “She wants to fool around as ‘they think we are anyway’.” His voice was sarcastic, but Louis heard the despair and worry beneath it, and ached to reach out and hold him. “I don’t know how long I can hold her at bay. It’d be simpler to tell her a lie if I was single, but I can’t tell her I’m in love with _you.”_ Louis heard the catch in his voice, the moment he began to crumple. “I wish you were here so badly.”

“Love, you do what feels right. This whole situation is so fucked anyway. You know me and the boys are behind you no matter what. If you want to tell her, do it. I can be on a flight out in a few hours. Fuck the rules.” Harry felt the passion in those words and knew he couldn’t let him down.

“I could start a different set of rumours and ask to try on her dress? I’m sure I could pull it off – I have great legs.” He half laughed.

“Oh yes, love, you really do. I love them wrapped around my neck.”

“ _Louis!_ Don’t say things like that! I can’t walk back in there with a hard-on – she’ll see it as an invitation.”

Louis snuffly laugh seeped into his ear and made his skin prickle with want.

“Sorry love. Can’t help myself. We’ll play tomorrow, yeah? Set aside a couple of hours for some serious Skype sex. Can’t wait. Any chance you could model some of your new clothes for me?”

“Of course. I’ll give you a show.”

Louis’ voice dropped, turning serious.

“You’ll be okay, yeah? Ring me if something goes wrong. Don’t hesitate. I love you, Haz.”

“Love you, Lou. I miss you.”

“I know, love. Soon, yeah? It won’t be long now.” He wasn’t fooling either of them with that statement, and his heart was heavy.

Harry sniffed once, regaining control. His voice was gruff.

“I have go back inside or she’ll probably come out looking for me. Can’t wait to see you. Okay, I’ve got to go. Love you.”

“Night love. Talk tomorrow.”

They both waited for a second longer before ending the call, both wanting to prolong the connection to their real lives for as long as possible.

Harry made his way back inside, closing the door with an air of finality. He was so tired. He hoped his mum would call soon to say when she was flying in. Or Ed. He needed company that he could really talk to.

He was relieved to see that Alexa had disappeared, but a robe had been thrown across the back of the couch for him along with a blanket. Looked like he was kipping on the couch then. That was okay with him, even if he was a bit tall for it. It was preferable to the alternative. His glass of wine had been topped up and he took a mouthful before heading off to look for the shower. He found it on the second try, the room empty and dark. Finding the light, he locked the door behind him and turned on the water, finding a soft, pulsing spray that would feel heavenly on his neck. Unfastening his clothes and the pearl pendant, he laid them on the chair before stepping in to wash away the day. His head was heavy, tiredness threatening to overtake him in the warm embrace of the water. He decided against washing his hair, settling for a quick all over wash before flipping off the water and climbing out, drying off with a brisk towelling down before donning the robe.

He yawned, carrying his clothes back to the couch, refastening his pendant and checking that his phone was locked. He took another mouthful of wine and set the glass down, feeling a wave of tiredness engulf him. He registered someone saying his name, steering him to the couch, and then nothing.

His alarm woke him at 8.00, giving him time to dress, hit the bathroom and thank Alexa for her hospitality, even though she’d done nothing other than leave him be. That alone was worth thanking her for, his head reminded him. He still had a bit of a headache and made his way to the kitchen for a glass of water. Alexa hadn’t appeared and he guessed she was sleeping in. After all, it was Harry who was getting papped leaving here – she didn’t need to be in the frame. Massaging his temples, he opened his eyes wide to wake himself, finishing the water in one gulp. He checked he had his phone, keys and wallet before heading out to meet Alberto.

The paps were lounging in an indolent fashion against their cars, some way behind Alberto and his limo.  He was surprised that there were more than expected, and this time their questions were different.

_“Harry! Are things getting serious between you and Alexa?”_

_“Guess it really is ladies only for you now, eh, Harry?”_

_“Looks like you had a great night! Care to comment?”_

The ability to act immune to provocation was essential in his line of work, but these questions were barbed and hit home. The moment the door was closed and he’d greeted Al, he opened his phone to see what they were commenting on.

_Oh holy fuck._

He felt everything collapse beneath him.

“Shitshitshit! That bitch. Oh god – I need to talk to Louis before he sees these.”

He was dialling before they hit the main street.

~xXx~

Louis heard his phone – the ring tone was Harry. Looking at the clock, he knew it wasn’t good news. He must have just gotten up.

“Haz? What is it? What’s wrong?” He rubbed his eyes, hearing Harry’s panicked voice, but not making much sense. “Harry... Harry! Stop. Slow down. What’s happened?”

He heard Harry’s rapid breathing, knew he was bordering on a panic attack and needed to be talked down. Harry was in full freak-out now, and no way was he going to get any sense out of him. It was with relief and no small amount of surprise when Alberto’s voice came on the phone.

“Louis? It’s Al. You need to check that woman’s Instagram page. She’s posted nude pictures of Harry. They’ve gone viral.”

Louis couldn’t breathe, needing to be there right the fuck now. He heard Alberto talking to Harry, telling him to breathe, and then he heard Harry’s hiccupping tears and wanted to scream until he woke everyone that planned this fucking stunt and subjected his boy to this shit. Waiting for Al to come back, he grabbed his laptop and loaded the page. The images that appeared were every bit as bad as he feared. Harry asleep on a couch, apparently naked, with a blonde woman wrapped around him, smirking into the camera. There was another of just Harry alone, and this time there was no hiding his nakedness. He lay on his side, face to the camera, curled onto a too small couch, probably cold, and this woman was taking his picture to exploit him to the mass public.

Alberto came back on the phone.

“Louis, he says he has a bad headache, and he remembers feeling dizzy last night. Sounds like a spiked drink to me. I’m going to get him to bed and stay with him, okay?”

“Thanks, Al – I’m glad you’re there. When he’s up to it, have him Skype me, ok? I need to see him.”

“Sure thing, Louis. You better start checking to see how far these have already spread. He’s not going to want to leave the house after this. There were far more paps than expected at her house this morning. Thankfully they don’t know about this place. Talk to you later.”

Alberto ended the call, and Louis swayed between wanting to kill the bitch responsible for this, and wanting to sob for the pain his boy was going through.

Louis checked every tabloid and gossip website. All of them had picked up the story of Harry and his model spending the night together. All led with some variant of the same headline:

“ _What a relief, eh girls? Our Harry’s definitely into the ladies now. Shame he’s been snaffled by a model!”_

_“Harry’s been hiding his best asset behind those loose shirts!”_

_“Ooh cheeky! Harry has it all on show for his model girl!”_

Every one of them thought it was funny. No one picked up on the fact that Harry was asleep when the pictures were taken, quite possibly out cold. This was exploitation by someone who thought it was acceptable to drug someone to get column inches.

In his mind’s eye he could see Harry’s red-rimmed eyes, his shock at what should have been a couple of silly photos of the two of them grinning over drinks or some grainy shots of Harry with his hair in a towel. Harry wasn’t shy, but he trusted people to be as nice as he himself was, and that had proved to be a massive mistake. He would be utterly humiliated.

He called Heckle and Jeckle. If Harry had been roofied, he wanted something done about it. To his fury, their management were blithely unconcerned about the photos, ecstatic about the coverage Harry was getting. Louis snarled down the phone that coverage was the one thing Harry had needed when those photos were taken. He told them what Alberto had said, and they quieted for a moment, digesting this before dismissing it.

_“Mr Tomlinson, you have no proof of these accusations. For all we know, My Styles may have just gotten drunk and decided to play along…”_

Louis had blown up down the phone, insisting that something be done, that the promo deal be called off with immediate effect, and that he be permitted to fly out to LA, or Harry be brought home. They had refused.

In sheer desperation, Louis had then done the only other thing he could think of.

He had called Simon Cowell.

~xXx~

 

Anne touched down in LA the following day on a last minute flight out, after receiving an early morning call from a frantic Louis. He had tried to contact Harry on his phone and on his computer and gotten no reply since their brief interaction a few hours earlier. He had tried to Skype Harry, only for it to be rejected. He had left countless messages and gotten no reply. She had looked at the sites that were reposting the pictures of Harry, most mercifully censored, read some of demeaning comments posted by the so-called reporters and commenters alike, and felt her heart clench in her chest. No wonder Louis was so upset – every instinct in her was to go to her boy, and she had no idea how Louis was going to deal with staying in the UK when his heart was in LA.

The flight seemed slower, the check-in lines longer, the passengers louder and more irritating. Her bag held her clothes and essentials, enough for a couple of weeks at least, and his favourite teddy bear from childhood. One thing she knew was that he needed comfort and security, and without being able to deliver Louis to him, he needed the next best thing. Louis had rung ahead and arranged for her to be collected from the airport. She knew Alberto and was glad he was there. Harry needed familiarity right now. From what she’d seen in the days before his departure, her boy was struggling; an incident like this would push him over the edge. The idea terrified her. If she could, she would bring him home to Cheshire with her, and, although she suspected that would be detrimental to his career, she only cared about his mental health.

She couldn’t sleep on the plane, her body in a state of high alert. Her mother’s instinct was telling her that she couldn’t get there fast enough. Seeing Alberto waiting by the car at the airport, she ran over to him, her suitcase bumping over the tiles. He picked up the case and stowed it away, opening her door for her. She shook her head and climbed into the front seat. In mere seconds they were on the road.

“How is he, Alberto? Be honest with me.”

A sigh came from the man next to her.

“I got him home from that girl’s apartment and put him to bed. I’m pretty sure he was drugged, Mrs Twist. I wouldn’t say that lightly. He has no memory of that night nor of the pictures being taken. If he’d agreed it would’ve been his choice, but this was underhand and manipulative. That girl has the media convinced that they’re a couple, and you know that Harry and Louis always try to insinuate ambiguity into their publicity relationships so the whole thing can be denied in the future. This time… the only way this can be denied is if the police get involved, and there’s no way their management will ever let that happen. They’re probably celebrating the publicity. I can almost hear the champagne corks popping.”

“Louis is going frantic. Harry isn’t taking his calls.” Her hand raked her long hair, just as Harry did when he was concerned. “I don’t care that else they’ve got lined up for him. After this, I’m making sure he stays out of the spotlight. If I can’t get him to press charges, then avoidance is the only way. _God…_ he needs Louis. Those bastards have no right to split them up for this long. It’s only been days… he’s got weeks to go yet! How the hell is he meant to cope? He was wobbly before he left, but now…”

Her hand fluttered, shaky with worry for her son. Alberto watched her, saw the concern, the tired grey of her skin under the carefully applied makeup after a no doubt sleepless night, and knew this was the best thing they could do for Harry right now. Pulling up at the house, Alberto eased the car into the garage and collected Anne’s luggage, letting her run on ahead.

She tried the door and found it locked. Knowing he wouldn’t answer to a knock, she went to the deck entrance, guessing he would be out back. Sure enough, she saw him staring into space, wrapped in a blanket, and called out to him.

“Harry? Honey?”

His head jerked up, his face crumpling the minute her arms were around him, her familiar scent filling his head.

“Mum… Mum… I’m sorry… so sorry…”

She held him close, burying her face in his hair and rocking him, just as she had when he was little.

“Oh love, no one blames you. I certainly don’t.” She kissed his hair and his cheeks, his blotchy face catapulting her back to a time when he had gotten into trouble at school. It was sometimes so hard for her to equate her little boy with the megastar he had become. “I came as soon as Louis called me. He’s going crazy not talking to you.” Her fingers brushed his hair back. “Why aren’t you answering his calls?”

His answer worried her even more than she could have imagined.

“Perhaps he’s better off without me, Mum. Maybe we’re just stupid to ever believe this could work out. We’ve tried so hard, and I love him so much, but how much longer are we supposed to do this for? It’s just never going to end, is it?” Tears poured down his face, his words snuffly and halting, and Anne held him close, wishing she could heal him.

“Sweetheart… sweetheart, listen to me.” She tilted his stricken face up to hers, her heart breaking for her baby boy. “That boy is in bits. He loves you so much and just wants to be here with you. I wouldn’t want to be your management team right now. He’s on a mission to raise hell, and I don’t doubt his ability to do it, do you?” She could see that his emotional state was overruling any semblance of common sense, but she had to reach him, to bring him back to reality.

Every part of her seethed. Given a choice, she would have Louis out here on the next flight and they would take down the bloody woman who had done this, make her wish she’d never messed with her family.

“Come on inside, love. Let’s get you some tea. Have you eaten anything?” Slipping into mother-mode was familiar and enabled her to keep herself focused. She watched him unfurl himself from the lounger, holding on to the blanket around his shoulders despite the summer heat, and walked him inside into the cool room, her arm around his shoulders. He stood stock-still, gazing at nothing while she boiled the kettle, made two cups of tea, and carried them to the kitchen table.

“Harry? Harry? Come drink your tea.” Her voice was soft, cajoling, and he sank into his seat, lost, a small boat engulfed by a tidal wave of shock. When his hand shook, he slopped tea over the table and himself, crying out. Anne was quick to her feet, cleaning up the spill and holding a cold cloth to his hand. It was only a light scald, no damage done, but enough for her to make a decision.

“Let’s get you to bed for a nap, shall we? Come on, sweetheart.”

Harry moved without complaint, distant and vacant, until she settled him down, stroking his forehead until he drifted off into a light sleep. Closing the door, Anne reached for the phone.

Back in London, Louis’ phone rang and he grabbed for it, waving his hands at the lads for quiet.

“Anne? How is he?”

She sighed and Louis’ anxiety ratcheted up another notch. He began to pace.

“Louis, love, he’s convinced himself that you two are better off apart, that it’s not meant to be.”

Louis’ hand reached for the doorframe for support, his head falling forward.

_No. No. No._

“He said that?” The words were hardly more than a whisper. “That’s why he won’t answer my calls or my messages? Please… please, Anne….ask him to talk to me. I need to hear his voice.” His voice cracked and Niall was on his feet in a second, pulling Louis into a one-armed hug. Anne’s voice betrayed her worry.

“Lou, how did it go with management? Are they going to do something about this? It wasn’t part of the plan, to humiliate him like this. There’s no way he’s in a fit state to do any more promo work now so they’re going to lose out big time.”

Louis rubbed his forehead, throbbing pain starting to bloom behind his eyes.

“I rang them, they had to have been expecting it. They tried to congratulate me. Arseholes thought we had _planned_ it. _Planned._ I lost it. I told them he was drugged and they told me not to be so dramatic. I asked about his itinerary because he has several appearances coming up – lots of organised pap walks and shopping trips, dinner with friends and stuff. They still expect him to do it, no exceptions.”

“Lou…” her pause spoke far more than words. “Lou, I can barely even get him to speak to me. I think I should call a doctor and get a blood test. That way we have some evidence. Do you know of one I can call here? One we can trust?”

“Yeah… yeah I do. Hang on.” He found Harry’s address book by the bed, finding the card tucked in the back. “Got it. Dr Connolly – Harry saw him when he needed inhalers one time. His place has celebrity patients and are discreet. Got a pen? Here’s the number…” He waited until she read it back. “See if you can get him to make a house call today, Anne, please?” He chewed his lip. “Let’s not waste any time.” He paused. “Is he sleeping? He is? Okay.” His heart sank, knowing he couldn’t speak to him, needing to hear his voice so badly.  “When he wakes up, tell him I love him and that I miss him. Thanks.” He wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Call me when the doctor’s been? Don’t worry about the time. Thanks, love. Talk to you soon. Bye.”

His voice broke on the last word and he looked into Niall’s sad eyes, knew they were worried out of their minds too. Louis tried to keep his voice even, saw the pinched faces across the room. Liam and Zayn were sitting close, Zayn’s head in his hands. Liam kept glancing over, clearly worried, his hand on Zayn’s back.

“We’ll know more when the doctor’s done a blood test. I want that bitch banged to rights.” He paced a bit more before realising the lads were still waiting for the rest of the conversation.

“What’s going on with you and Haz?” Zayn’s voice floated over the empty air.

With a half laugh he attributed to borderline hysteria, Louis tried to explain.

“He thinks we shouldn’t be together anymore, him and me, that is. He thinks it’s too hard.”

What was hard was trying to form the words in relation to Harry, his soul mate. It had always been hard, but not having Harry in his life was too much to contemplate. To see him every day but not touch him? Kiss him? There was no point to breathing in and out if that was the alternative to being in love with Harry.

“Wha’?”

“You’re kiddin’?”

“No fuckin’ way.”

All three spoke at once, their faces all set in the same horrified expressions. Liam pulled Louis into a hug.

“He’s not himself, we all know that. Ever since that fucking story ran. Don’t give up, Tommo. That lad loves you. Has done for five fucking years. We have to do something. What did management say?”

“Fuck all useful. So I phoned Simon.”

Jaws dropped then.

“And said what?” Zayn spoke for them all.

“Told him what had happened. He’d seen the photos of course, but Simon being Simon, he reserved judgment. He won’t agree to Harry coming back because of it, but I’m hoping he might let me go out there. I can’t lose him. I just need Harry’s blood test to come back positive, and then I’m pushing for this to be over. I need to be with my boy.”

“I couldn’t do what you two do. I couldn’t.” Niall slumped back in his armchair. The fuckers seem to delight in torturing you both for the craic. I’ve, well, we’ve,” the others nodded, “watched you both from day one. You’ve fought so bloody hard for your relationship, whereas they seem determined to fuck you over at every turn.” The others murmured in unison. “There has to be something we can do. If we can’t go out there, what about Ed? You said he was planning to stop by? Can you give him a call? Maybe get him here?”

Liam nodded, on board with the idea.

“You should call him, see if he’s still over here.”

Louis fanned his fingers on the couch cushion, tapping them in rhythm while he thought it over. “Okay. I’ll call him. Here’s hoping he can help.”

He scrolled through his phone, cursing when he missed the number. Finally finding it, he dialled and waited, chewing the side of his finger in agitation.

“Hey Louis!” The noise of a party crackled through the small loudspeaker.

“Ed, mate. I need to talk to you.” Louis raised his voice to be heard. The party noise receded, and he heard a door close.

“What’s up?”

“Mate, where are you? Right now I mean? I could really use your help.”

He heard a crash and a muffled oath.

“I’m in Hampstead – at a party. Want to come? I can get you in, no problem.”

“No, no thanks. Me and the lads, we’re trying to find a way to help Haz. Have you seen the gossip websites today?” His face scrunched, the conversation not going the way he’d hoped.

“No, mate – why, what’s up? I was planning on dropping in on Harry in a few days like we talked about.”

“Just that, ah… things have gone bad, really bad. I wondered if you’d help me. I think he’s going to leave me.”

He heard astounded laughter down the phone.

“You’re kidding me, right? That bloke adores you. Every bit of you as he’s told me more than once.”

Louis swallowed, his eyes closed.

“Wish I were, mate.”

“I – I – okay – I’ll be there as soon as I can. You at home?”

“Yeah. It’d be good to see you. The lads are here too. We need a plan.”

An hour or so later the doorbell rang, and Louis let a pink-cheeked Ed in, leading him through to the lounge where the others were sprawled, each wearing the same despondent face. Ed rubbed his scruff, his happy demeanour useless in the face of such unhappiness, and accepted a seat on the couch, waiting.

“So – I might be a bit drunk, but I think you all need to fill me in.”

Louis opened his laptop.

~xXx~

Anne made him a snack when he woke, then made him shower, pointing out the new ink on his hip when she got to see it.

“That’s love, sweetheart. Look at those words. Louis must be going out of his mind without talking to you, and I know how much you’re missing him. Don’t even try to lie. It’s like half of you is missing without him. He’s the… I don’t know… the sass to your serious, your muse. Hell, he even laughs at your jokes. Even Gemma refuses to do that.”

Harry looked bleak, pale and waifish, ready to be carried away on a stiff breeze.

 _Maybe he’d like that_ , Anne thought. _If it would take him home to Louis._

Unbeknownst to Harry, Anne had been checking the websites, trying to work out what they were going to do with the story they had concocted. Alexa, the so-called model who had ruined her son’s credibility, had given interviews claiming they had had an incredible night together and that they were holed up at her place night and day, inseparable. Who the hell did she think she was kidding? The only good thing that Anne could see was that there was no mention of Louis, so she clearly hadn’t gotten into his phone when he was unconscious. Small mercies there. Even Anne didn’t know the number combination to his phone, only Louis knew that.

The British tabloids were loving her tale of the new romance, using pictures of them separately in the articles to fuel speculation. Anne could see from the few shots of them together that her boy’s eyes were blank, disinterested, merely fulfilling his job description. How different it would be if it were Harry and Louis out for dinner together, being photographed holding hands and giggling, getting handsy in the restaurant (she’d had enough dinners with them to know that after a few drinks they were incapable of restraining themselves). Love just shone out of them. She noted from the pictures that Harry was wearing the pearl that Louis had given him and hoped that Louis noticed that too – there was no way Harry would wear that if he planned to end it between them. She had noticed that his engagement ring was still in place on his middle finger too. She would panic only when he took that off and laid it aside.

Hearing a car pull up, she went to the door to let in the doctor, murmuring a greeting and an apology all in one breath.

“Thank you, Dr Connolly – I really appreciate you coming here. So sorry to call you away from your practice.”

She led the way to Harry and Louis’ bedroom to find Harry dressed in comfy sweats, perched on the end of the bed.

“Mr Styles – I understand you think you may have been drugged? Something in your drink, your mother mentioned?”

Harry’s voice was slow and flat.

“I had a mouthful of wine before I went outside. When I came back in the glass had been topped up. I had another mouthful before I went to take a shower. I felt a bit dizzy then, but I thought I was just tired. I’ve been really down, what with my partner not being here. I remember drinking another sip and then feeling so weary. I felt someone help me to the couch and that’s it. I woke up yesterday morning with a massive headache and no memory of the night before.”

“Right – well that is consistent with a date rape drug. Okay – I need a urine sample from you. It will give us a positive result in a couple of minutes if you were given anything.” He held out the sample pot for Harry to take. Harry nodded and took it, heading to his bathroom and closing the door. The doctor turned to Anne.

“Has he vomited?”

She shook her head. “I only flew in early this morning. Getting to tell me anything has been difficult.”

“Any indication of sexual assault?”

She almost laughed.

“A woman is pretending she's having an affair with him. She appears to have drugged him and taken inappropriate pictures to further her career. It’s just despicable.”

The bathroom door opened and Harry handed over the sample. The doctor opened a packet and dip tested. He turned to Harry.

“Everything you tell me is confidential, Mr Styles. I just want to remind you of that. Is there any likelihood of sexual assault while you were unconscious?”

Harry shook his head. “No. This was malicious, not sexual. She got what she wanted.”

The doctor shook his head and took a moment to examine Harry.

“You’re quite dehydrated.” He turned to Anne. “Could you fetch him a glass of water please? You need to drink far more to flush your system. Now, any vomiting? Headaches?”

“I did throw up when I got home that morning, but I just thought it was from shock. Alberto, my bodyguard, looked after me and got me water.” Anne reappeared with a full glass and handed it to him. “I’ve had a headache since I woke up yesterday though.”

Checking his watch, the doctor looked at the test.

“It’s positive. You were given a substance like Ketamine or GHB, something that could be hidden in your drink and works very quickly. From what you’ve told me, it was put in your glass when you went outside. You were lucky not to pass out in the shower.”

“I only had a quick one, no more than 5 minutes. I remember I didn’t want to wash my hair. I felt dizzy when I got out.”

“Have you called the police? This woman could have killed you with the wrong dose.”

Anne paled.

“No, we haven’t, but I think we should. Harry?” Harry looked confused, distressed and scared. He didn’t answer. “I’m calling Louis. I promised him.”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “No, Mum. He doesn’t need this – he has enough on his plate.”

“Harry – that boy is going out of his mind with worry. I’m calling him. Then we talk about calling the police. Doctor?” She turned to him. “Will he need to be retested by a police doctor or can we give the police your details for the result?”

“I'll write up a report back at the office and send you a copy straightaway. Can I take your contact details?”

Anne took the pen and wrote down her private email address. “Send it to me, please. It will be safe that way. Is there anything else we should do?”

He shook his head. “Rehydrate and rest. I guess you’ve been sleeping a lot? How about feelings of depression, feeling low and tearful?” He couldn’t fail to notice Harry’s puffy eyes.

“All of the above.” Anne stepped in. “He’s talking about breaking up with his partner because of this. He has been crying since I got here.”

“Mum! Stop.” He looked so tired.

“Love, maybe what you’re feeling is down to the drugs. When did you last speak to Louis? Think.”

Harry scrubbed his eyes with his sleeve. “He rang me at Alexa’s – I went outside to take the call.”

“You said that before – you went outside. Then you came back in and your glass had been refilled.” The doctor frowned. “Was everything alright between you and your partner when you last spoke?”

Harry looked at Anne, then at Dr Connolly. He nodded, scrunching his eyes against his headache. “He was checking I was okay, he knew how much I didn’t want be to be there.”

“And you didn’t argue, nothing to make you think that your relationship was in trouble?” The doctor looked at him with a steady gaze.

“No, I was telling him she wanted to fool around and I wasn’t up for it. I’m not allowed to tell her about Louis – it’s in my contract. All arranged by our management.”

The doctor shook his head. “I don’t understand all this – it seems insane to make people fake a relationship for media attention. I’m guessing you’ve done this before?”

Harry’s face dropped. “Once or twice, yeah. I was pretty down before I left the UK. Mum will tell you that. Sleeping a lot and... crying too. I really didn’t want to do this again. Three months is too long to be apart.” He raked his hair with his free hand, Anne holding onto the other.

“Sounds to me like you should both take a stand, especially if the relationship is serious. A lot of my patients over the past couple of years have same sex partners. No one much cares these days. But what do I know? I treat them – I don’t live in their world. I don’t think I’d want to.”

Anne sat down on the bed, wrapping an arm around Harry’s shoulders.

“You need to talk to Louis. I’ll ring him and tell him about this. Then when you’re ready, you call him. Please? I can’t see the two of you break up because of someone so malevolent. You’ve been in love since the day you met. I don’t see that changing - ever.”

She looked up. “How long will these symptoms last?”

“I can’t give you a definitive time on that, I’m afraid. The vomiting and the headaches will pass when the substance is out of the system, so about 72 hours. The depression symptoms vary. I think that if you face what you are feeling head-on, it might help you make sense of it. From what you and Mr Styles have told me about his relationship, it sounded solid before he imbibed the drug. It stands to reason that any doubts can be attributed to that. The best prescription I could give would be to get them together as soon as possible.”

Anne’s heart sank. She wanted nothing more than that for her son. Pressing a kiss to his temple, she hugged him and stood up.

“Drink some water, love. I’ll see the doctor out.”

She looked back to see him sipping water, deep in thought.

~xXx~

Louis’s phone rang, startling him out a deep sleep. He reached out to grab it, almost rolling off of the sofa.

“Anne? How is he?”

“Hello, Louis, love. The doctor confirmed he was drugged. He’s sending me a report. I just…I want to call the police. The doctor said it should be reported, but I don’t know what to do. I need advice.” He could hear her despair, bordering on panic.

She told him about the symptoms, and what the doctor had said.

“Sweetheart, he'll call you, I know it. This drug is fuelling the depression he was already dealing with before he left. He’s a bit confused, but I know how much he misses you. He told me you rang him when he was at that girl’s house. He remembers that, and that everything was okay then. It all adds up. Don’t give up, love.”

Louis felt tears burn, his nails digging into his palms. He had never felt this helpless.

 “I just miss him so much. I have to do something. Can you forward me that report when you get it? I’m going to have another talk with Simon about this. Heckle and Jeckle don’t take me seriously, so I’m going up the line.”

“Simon Cowell? Are you sure?”

“It’s the only route left open to us. Nobody seems to care what happens to Harry, but us. I can’t come out there no matter how much I want to, so we need to do something. I want that woman arrested – her management need to know about this. I don’t care if they charge her with possession or with attempted date rape. Who knows what she could have been planning to do to him. She might well do it again and try and blackmail Harry next time. That can’t happen. She isn’t getting _near_ my boy again, _ever_.”

Louis tried to contain his temper, knowing how upset Anne was too, wishing that she didn’t have to go through this. Her next words were unexpected, and shocked him so hard he forgot to breathe.

“Dr Connolly said it could have been fatal if the dose was too high.” Her breathing hitched into a quiet sob at saying the words aloud. “She could've  _killed_ him, Louis. Just to further her own bloody career. We could have _lost_ him…”

She collapsed into tears then, everything crashing down around her, her sobs travelling straight to Louis’ ears and making his own tears fall faster.

_I could've lost him. For what? Pointless gossip column inches in shitty tabloids?_

It was a mixture of relief that Harry was okay, or at least would be soon, and terror over how close they had come to possibly losing him. He mustered some strength, taking a deep breath.

“Are you going to be okay? Once I’ve got that report I’m contacting Simon. Here’s hoping he’ll tell us what to do. If not, well… we call the police. Simple. Either way, this is over. Keep me posted, yeah? Let me know how he’s doing until he… he wants to talk to me himself. I won’t force him – he needs time to make sense of everything. Just tell him, tell him… the boys are worried about him and miss him. Tell him to rest up and everything will be okay. Tell him I love him.”

“Of course I will, love. Thank you, Louis. Talk to you soon.”

“Look after you too, yeah? I’m so glad he has you there. If management call, just tell them to call me. Don’t mention Simon. Yeah?”

“Okay. I’ll let you know as soon as I have any news.” He could hear her wiping her nose, trying hard to pull it together, knowing Harry would just worry more if she fell apart. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart – you need your rest too.”

Louis closed his eyes, anger and pain burning behind his lids.

_Like he was ever going to sleep again._

~xXx~

 

Despite Anne’s pleading, the next day Harry showered and dressed, and covered half his face with sunglasses before heading out for a brief, prearranged shopping trip. He had no intention of doing anything more than be seen buying a smoothie and drinking it while he walked down the street. Alberto waited for him a couple of blocks down, saw the swarm of paps descend, taking pictures of him from every angle while he blanked them all. If he hid behind his glasses and hair, it should come as no surprise to anyone, but those juicy photos needed follow up material and they tried to find their story, leeching onto any tiny insignificant detail.

The next day the headlines were screaming out from the web.

_“Harry Styles steps out for the first time after naughty photos emerge of him and top model Alexa!”_

_“Harry looks tired today when spotted refuelling at his favourite smoothie parlour! Looks like his new girl isn’t giving him much rest!”_

Harry stayed away from the papers, preferring to hide at home when he wasn’t performing like a trained seal. His next pap walk was scheduled to be lunch with old friends at a pavement café where he was in full view. Not wanting to go over the whole saga publicly at lunch, he briefed them over the phone, telling them what had happened before they met. Naturally they were shocked and wanted to cancel, saying it was too much, but Harry was a professional and insisted on going ahead even though he had little to no appetite for food. Alberto dropped him off outside the restaurant, and watched him meet his friends, seeing how flat Harry was, his familiar sparkle extinguished. He was dressed today in jeans and an old band tee shirt, his hair in a bun, large sunglasses once again covering his face until he hugged his friends, The glasses then went on top of his head so they could sit and talk.

That was his first mistake.

Harry’s face was pale, dark circles under his eyes a testament to the aftereffects of the drug and of missing Louis so much it hurt to breathe. In a few days he had lost weight, was noticeably jumpy, and struggled to hold a conversation, his mind wandering. He had no appetite whatsoever, and only picked at his meal, sipping his water.

That was his second mistake.

The lunch exhausted him, and his friends could tell he had had enough. He called Alberto and was picked up less than 40 minutes after arriving. He apologised to his friends, but they simply told him to rest, and to call them if he needed anything. He was back home and asleep within half an hour, Anne watching over him and worrying as only a mother truly could.

This time the paps were ruthless in their character annihilation.

_“Harry Styles met with friends today and it’s fair to say he has looked better. Rumours are circling that Harry has an eating disorder, having not touched any food during his lunch date. Is he succumbing to the LA lifestyle? Fans were concerned that Harry looked too thin and deathly pale when we spotted him yesterday. All this is fuel to further speculation that Harry is freefalling, his career nosediving. The band’s tour has not sold out in the US, and with the revelations about his past with Louis Tomlinson and their ongoing feud, a solo career is looking increasingly unlikely…”_

Their management did nothing, happy to allow their star to write his own headlines and congratulating themselves on the success of their plan. The split had unknowingly become real, the two could no longer claim to have a relationship when they couldn’t see each other. It wouldn’t be long before Harry’s public breakdown would be automatically blamed on fights with his new girlfriend (they had not been seen together since the damaging photos appeared) and the ugly feud with his former lover and bandmate. Management were happy for the public to form opinions that had no basis in fact. Who cared about facts when rumours and speculation sold so many more magazines? Fans flocked to buy tickets for the final shows, convinced the band were over and this would be the last tour of the once mighty band. Stories exploded across the web that perhaps one of them still held a torch, deepening the already irreparable rift within the band.

Management rubbed their hands together, hearing the cash roll in. Louis felt his life was broken beyond repair, wanting to scream to the world that he and Harry were in love, that Harry was all that mattered in his life - all that had ever mattered. How did the lie become part truth? Pretending to be ex-lovers, just friends, friends who weren’t even close now thanks to some huge bust-up they had had back in 2012 when they were so young. Their whole professional life had been based on faking their friendship to keep the band together, no contact at all when they were away from the other lads.

 

~xXx~

Ed and the lads had stayed up for hours with Louis working on an idea. Louis had kept an eye on Zayn and Liam, worried that their fragile relationship was also suffering under the strain of keeping up appearances with their long term partners. One thing he knew was that the boys didn’t make it easy on themselves, Liam feeling bad about technically ‘cheating’ on two partners by spending so much time with Sophia and still desiring Zayn. For his part, Zayn had no interest in his singer ‘girlfriend’, other than for publicity. He spent what time he had to with her, the rest of his time he just wanted to be with Liam.

The crazy thing being that management either didn’t know or didn’t care about Zayn and Liam’s relationship. Sure, they both stunted with girls, but their long-term ‘relationships’ didn’t get so much press and weren’t so labour intensive to maintain. To be fair, Liam didn’t flaunt it, although a trained eye could spot their interaction in interviews that needed little explanation. A shady story had once circulated that Zayn had slept with a couple of other male singers, but nothing came of it. The management team managed to brush it all under the carpet and there was no damage to the band brand. Their relationship was on/off, very casual, Liam enjoying his time with girls too which hurt Zayn, Louis knew.

There lay the heart of the problem.

They had had long talks about it after hours on the tour bus, getting high and winding down. Zayn had been pretty despondent about Liam dating his current girl, not wanting to be with Zayn at the same time. It has cut him deep, coming second when he was smitten with Liam and had been since their time in the X Factor house. Getting high always seemed to help, but inevitably ended up with Zayn in tears on Louis’ shoulder over the whole affair. Louis understood how he felt and wanted to help, but couldn’t hate Liam for wanting to enjoy the girl’s company. Plus, if they were sleeping together then Liam would see it as a betrayal to both of them.  Messy. When it all crashed down, he would then want Zayn and fool that he was, he would be there for him. It would be so much easier if Liam wasn’t trying to make everyone happy. Good old peacekeeper Liam. He had never been with a bloke before, and Louis wondered if he was still struggling with it even now, despite the obvious attraction that burned between them.

Without the women in their lives, Louis reckoned the two of them could have a real shot at a proper relationship. He liked them together – they complimented each other’s personalities.

Why the fuck was the truth always portrayed as an obstacle?

~xXx~

To Louis’ disgust, the press had all but convinced the public that Eleanor was living with Louis now, speculation rife that an engagement wouldn’t be long in coming. They didn’t see the decline in his appearance, the way the lads pushed him to shave and smarten himself up on the days when all he could do was look at pictures of Harry and drink beer.

It wasn’t until he had to spend so much more time with Eleanor that things got even worse. They had tolerated each other at the start, doing the minimum to get by, but management upped the stakes, having them spend time at public events, parties, shopping even at the supermarket. He despised her now, not making the effort to hide it, and yet the media still screamed about her moving in with him any day now, _‘sorry girls he’s off the market for good!’_   He wished for long winter nights where he could hide inside in bad weather, but no – it had to be a blinding summer, didn’t it. Beach trips, shopping, festivals, more, more, more...

Everything from her sickly perfume, to her sneering attitude pissed him off. She made no effort with the other lads, and so they didn’t bother with her either. She came to watch him play footie and spent the match on her phone. It had always been Harry that hugged him when a game was going well, his own one man cheering squad.

His heart cramped.

He'd spoken to Simon, and sent him over the doctor’s report. Simon was curt, but even he couldn’t hide the sharp inhalation when he read it while Louis was on the phone.

Louis begged him to do something, to clear Harry’s name in the press, to get the woman dealt with. He threw in what the doctor had said, that if the dosage had been wrong, Harry could have died. He took the silence down the phone as a good sign – it meant Simon was deep in thought.

“Louis, have you spoken to Modest! about this?”

“Of course I have, but they’re doing nothing. I sent you the report as soon as Anne emailed it. She’s furious and wants to call the police. The doctor said the same thing. Is that model under a gag order to not talk about the whole promo deal? Because if she is, surely she can’t then leak ‘her’ side of the story after this is over?”

Silence down the phone. Louis’ palms were starting to sweat.

“Simon – I just want my boy back. He’s ill from the drugs she gave him. Anne’s worried about him, and she says he’s having he’s depressed and still having bad headaches. His coordination’s off too – both Alberto and Anne say he drops things and spills because his hands are shaking. This isn’t helping anyone’s cause. If he doesn’t get better…” He breathed in long and slow, trying to hold it together. “We need him well and his old self before the tour resumes. Please, if you want him back on stage, please…anything you can do.”

He’d never begged like this to management ever, had never envisaged he would ever need to. He and Simon butted heads on a regular basis and it showed a level of desperation previously unheard of that he was even making this call.

“Leave it with me, Louis.” With that, the line went dead.

Louis redialled and waited.

“Anne? I’ve sent it to Simon. No, no idea what he’s going to do – we just have to wait.”

~xXx~

Harry woke up, his teddy bear next to him. He smiled, the gesture feeling alien after so long.

_Thanks, Mum._

Picking him up, he gave him a big cuddle, burying his nose in the plush. She’d washed him and he smelled of his childhood home.

_If Louis had given him to me he would’ve smelled of him._

A part of him wanted to spritz him with Louis’ aftershave, to hold him tight and breathe him in until he got his Louis back. Then he remembered that he couldn’t have him, because he was just hurting him, and he loved him too much for that. It wasn’t fair to him.

He sat back down on the bed, feeling leaden and dead inside.

_Why did doing the right thing have to hurt?_

Anne was outside reading her book in the sun, and left alone with nothing to do, Harry reached for his laptop. Logging into his email, he skimmed through the messages seeing old ones from Louis that he studiously avoided opening, clicking instead on one from Ed. It was entitled simply: new song. Welcoming the distraction, he opened the message and saw the link to a YouTube entry, along with a brief message.

He frowned when the read the words:

* _Promise me you’ll watch and listen to the end. Don’t switch it off. I promise it’s worth it.*_

Frowning, he clicked the link, seeing it was an unlisted video. When it opened, he clicked full screen. The first thing to appear were words across the centre, addressing him directly.

_*Dear Harry_

_This is for you._

_The music is mine, the lyrics are not. I’m not this good._

_Much love,_

_Ed.*_

 

There was no intro, the music and vocal starting together, the familiar and distinctive voice heartfelt and raw, the vocal strong yet faltering, the message clear in every word.

_‘Shut the door_

_Turn the light off_

_I wanna be with you_

_I wanna feel your love_

_I wanna lay beside you_

_I cannot hide this_

_Even though I try’_

His hand hovered over the button, wanting to stop this, and yet it was Louis, singing to him, showing him his heart in song – the lyrics he had promised to write for him on the day they parted. Although now they were in the form of a farewell rather than the love letter he had craved.

_‘Heart beats harder_

_Time escapes me_

_Trembling hands_

_Touch skin_

_It makes this harder_

_And the tears stream down my face’_

Tears spilled unchecked down his cheeks and chin, Louis’ beautiful voice cracking over the words that sounded like an agonising goodbye – the very pain that Harry had tried to spare him.

_‘You know I’ll be_

_Your life_

_Your voice_

_Your reason to be_

_My love_

_My heart_

_Is breathing for this_

_Moment_

_In time_

_I’ll find the words to say_

_Before you leave me today’_

He burst into gut-wrenching uncontrollable sobs, dragged from the depths of his soul. He could hear tears in Louis’ voice, could hear his pain, and he couldn’t bear it. The song was an open wound that would never stop bleeding, unable to heal while they were ripped apart.  
_  
__‘Close the door_

_Throw the key_

_Don’t wanna be reminded_

_Don’t wanna be seen_

_Don’t wanna be without you_

_My judgement’s clouded_

_Like tonight’s sky_

_Hands are silent_

_Voice is numb_

_Try to scream out my lungs_

_It makes this harder_

_And the tears stream my face…’_

_Lou, my Lou, what have I done to you?_

Anne came running into the room, hearing his sobs, his face etched with pain, and gathered him into her arms, looking at the message from Ed while she made sense of it all. Louis’ anguished plea to Harry bled out of the speakers, every word begging him to come back.

_‘There’s a pile of my clothes_

_At the end of your bed_

_As I feel myself fall_

_Make a joke of it all…’_

 

“He – he wrote it for me. To say goodbye. Mum, what have I done? I’ve hurt him so badly. How can he ever forgive me?” His words were muffled, her shoulder already soaked with his tears.

Anne wiped the tears from his cheeks while more fell to replace them.

“Sweetheart, listen to those words. He’s hurting so badly, but he’s trying to tell you how much he misses you. He’s not saying goodbye, unless you want him to. And I know you don’t really want that. He’s the other half of you, you silly boy.”

The song faded and the screen went black. Another message appeared:

_*Call him. He’s a wreck without you._

_Also this song is too damn beautiful to ignore._

_He has talent, that boy of yours._

_Ed.*_

 

Anne reached for his phone from the bedside table and handed it to him, wiping her own eyes with the back of her hand.

“Do it.”

Harry scrubbed his face with the heel of his hand, finding the familiar number and, with a deep breath, pressed dial. It didn’t even ring.

“Harry?”

“Lou?” His voice squeaked when he heard that familiar voice. “Lou, I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t cry, love. I've missed you so much. Please say you’ll come back to me.”

“I wish you were here. Everything is so messed up and I just want to go home.”

He could hear noise on the other end of the phone, and guessed he was in traffic somewhere. He hoped Eleanor wasn’t there to witness this.

“Haz, have you checked the sites today? I know you’re probably avoiding them, but you need to see this. Simon sorted it. That woman has been arrested and charged. From what I hear she is guaranteed jail time for what she did. She signed an NDA too, so she can’t go screaming to the press, not that she has much to tell them. I’m guessing you never told her about us? Anyway, the upshot is no more stunting for you, my love. He’s given the green light for you to come home as soon as you want to.” 

“Really?” Harry sagged into a heap, Anne eyeing him, only hearing half of the conversation. Looking at her, he saw her anxious expression.

“Mum – Alexa’s been arrested. Louis says we can go home whenever we want.”

Relief flooded her face. Louis was still talking.

“I won’t lie, the press for all this has been hideous, and it isn’t going to go away anytime soon, but better you be at home with everyone around you, than out there on your own. There’s nothing to be gained by you staying out there now. They have their fucking headlines. Whatever the deal is to repay Simon, we’ll deal with it.”

Harry flinched. There was always a price to pay, and Modest! weren’t going to be impressed that they had gone over their heads, but at that moment all Harry could see was freedom from more lies. Whatever the fallout was, he could deal with it when he wasn’t alone.

“Lou, are the boys mad? At me, for fucking up I mean? You were right when you said I was too trusting. I always see the best in people and I never seem to learn.”

“Wouldn’t have you any other way, love. Listen – I have to go but I’ll talk to you very soon, okay? I love you, Haz.”

“Love you, Lou. I – I really miss you.”

“Won’t be long now, love, I promise.”

The call ended and Harry told Anne everything, crying some more, this time with relief.

“I just want to go home now. Can you book us flights for tomorrow? If you get us first class we might sneak back into the UK without being spotted.”

The doorbell interrupted them, and through the glass Anne saw Alberto. Frowning, she opened the door, wondering why he had rung the bell, when from behind him stepped Louis, bleary-eyed and scruffy, clearly exhausted, but the most welcome sight she could have wished for.

“Why on earth did you ring the bell, sweetheart?”

His hand fluttered through his messy fringe, making him look like a nervous little boy.

“Didn’t want to barge right in – didn’t seem right under the circumstances.”

Anne pulled him into a hug, knocking the breath out of him, and planting a kiss on his cheek.

“I’m so proud of you. Now get in there, you silly sod. I’ll be upstairs in my room, with the TV on.” Her smile threatened to blind him before she turned away and headed for the stairs, hugging herself with joy.

Alberto dropped the lone bag he held inside the door.

“I’ll be in my quarters. Call me when you’re ready to go, okay?”

Louis nodded and walked inside, footfalls barely there on the tiled floors. He walked over to the downstairs bedroom, the one they used to crash in when they were falling down drunk and couldn’t make it up the stairs. He guessed Harry wouldn’t be in _their_ bedroom, and he was right.

“Mum? Who was it?” Harry’s voice was thick from crying. Louis pushed the door open and stepped inside.

“It was me.”

Harry’s eyes widened before he leaped from the bed and slammed into Louis, holding him in a tight hug for what felt like an eternity.

“You’re here, you’re here, you’re really here.”

Louis’ arms wound around Harry’s waist, pulling him in as tight as he possibly could.

“Got on the first plane out, didn’t I. The minute Simon gave the go ahead. Couldn’t wait to get to you.” He hummed into his neck, inhaling the scent of his skin. He looked at the laptop on the bed, still open to Ed’s closing message. “I guess this means you got the lyrics I wrote for you.”

Harry half laughed, half sobbed his response, his face buried in Louis’ neck, never wanting to let go. “Yes.” His voice was muffled. “They’re so gorgeous and I’m sorry I’m so stupid. I’m sorry I fucked up. I’m sorry I pushed you away.”

“Don’t say that. You’re not stupid and you didn’t fuck up. How could you have known that your drink would be spiked? Look, her account has been closed down, but the pictures are out there. Management will try and make out they’re fake, but let’s be honest, it’s been days now. No one’s going to believe that. Let the cards fall where they may. I’d say that Eleanor could have done that to me at any time, but she’d have had to think of that first. Oh by the way, apparently I’m on the brink of proposing to her. We’re all shacked up, you know.”

His face was still in Harry’s neck, not wanting to move, but wanting more. “So do I get a hello kiss, or what?”

The tiniest giggle escaped Harry at the ridiculousness of his question. Untangling himself, he moved the laptop before pulling Louis back into his arms and together they fell onto the bed, just gazing at each other. Louis leaned into Harry, kissing him softly, gentle as a soap bubble. His thumb rubbed along his jawline, opening his mouth a little more, teasing and encouraging, nudging his nose with a smile until Harry’s needless guilt receded. Louis looked deep into those green eyes that owned his soul and paused, his lips a breath away from Harry’s.

“I meant every word of that song. Just so you know. It was the only way I could tell you how much I love you. You’re everything. The boys will tell you that I’ve been useless without you. I don’t make sense without you. Did you read even _one_ of my emails?”

Harry flushed. “I just… I doubted everything. I felt so lost. The doctor told me it was a side effect of the drug, but I felt like I’d betrayed you, embarrassed you, and caused you even more pain… I thought it'd be better…”

Louis silenced him with an Eskimo kiss.

“Not better. Never better if it means not being with you. Now, kiss me properly or I’m taking my fabulous arse back to Engl-”

Harry’s kiss took his breath away.

~xXx~

The music awards ceremony was the usual mad affair, everyone trying to outdo everyone else with outfits of differing levels of daring.  The lads were in their cars, waiting to step out onto the red carpet and wave to their adoring fans, and to give brief thank you speeches along the way to the presenters of tonight’s event.

The pre envisaged questions the presenters had in their minds went out of the window when two things happened simultaneously that night. Liam, Niall and Zayn walked down the carpet first, waving and chatting, and posing for photo ops. If anyone noticed Liam and Zayn staying extremely close together throughout, their attention was soon diverted because, a few steps behind them, making a grand entrance onto the carpet, were Harry and Louis, hand in hand. The photographers and fans went insane, the world filled with flashbulbs and shouts, screams of approvals from the side lines when the fans caught a glimpse of the boys standing tall and proud, determined to be silenced no longer. They knew their management were helpless to intervene when the cameras were flashing, live feed going out around the world of the two of them beaming, hand in hand. It was a fait accompli.

The Press went wild for the story, news breaking around the world moments after the photos were uploaded, the speculation filling column inches on internet news sites, while tabloids painted lurid articles of what they believed to be the truth, undermining their own lies and deceit, their part in the whole sordid affair of stunts and public trickery.

What the boys had carefully concealed until exactly the right moment, were the gleaming   wedding rings on their fingers, revealing once and for all the true nature of their relationship. Louis’ arm slid around Harry’s waist, Harry tucked happily into Louis, their left hands entwined in front of them. Their beaming smiles, blushes and joined hands took front page on every gossip magazine and online news feature across the UK and the US.

Their first public kiss, so tender and perfect, captivated the world.

~xXx~

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was my piece for 2015 NaNoWriMo and my first piece for the One Direction fandom, so please be kind.
> 
> Additional note: I am making corrections when I spot errors (inevitable when I am currently without a beta). If you have downloaded this story, you might want to check back for a corrected version. Thank you :)


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